


A Hundred Crimson Sols

by elldotsee



Series: SpaceBois go to Space [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 45 days in a spacecraft, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sherlock (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate names, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, As domestic as they get on another planet, Astronauts, Biomedical Engineer John Watson, Breathing is good, Chemist Sherlock, Close Quarters, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Johnlock, Explosions, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Flirting, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Real Events, Inspired by movies, John Watson Whump, John Watson is a Good Doctor, John has secrets, Lots of UST, Lots of attention to oxygen, M/M, Mars, Mars Exploration, Mars colonization, Massages that lead to more, Minor Injuries, POV Alternating, POV John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining, Pining John, Pining Sherlock, Realistic space travel, Research Based writing, SCIENCE!, Scientist Sherlock, Sexy coffee, Sherlock AU, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, Sherlock Whump, Shy Sherlock, Slow Burn, Spacesuits, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Terraforming, That's actually already a tag! lol, William Sherlock Scott Holmes - Freeform, Zero-gravity sex, alternate universe - astronauts, happy ending!, johnlock au, mentioned child death, meteor showers, not boring, prompted by a commercial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-04-15 03:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 55,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14151099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elldotsee/pseuds/elldotsee
Summary: Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people.The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who waspretty surehe had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab.Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters?{SPOILER: Of course not. That would be boring.}Guarantee there will be drama. And explosions. And Will is gonna do something cocky and stupid. Really good chance for some zero-gravity boinking (bet ya didn't even know you needed that in your life).Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off.





	1. Rocket Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After seeing Martin Freeman's Vodaphone ad that appears to be taking place in the movie "Gravity", I haven't been able to get these Space Bois outta my head. Thus, Space!Lock was born. I have the entire story mapped out and hope to be able to do updates weekly. 
> 
> Each chapter name is also the name of a song on my playlist that I have chosen because it matches the mood of the chapter. Listen to Rocket Man, a classic by Elton John [ here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uNNl3C0qvKg).
> 
> This chapter would not have gotten off the ground (ha. hahaha. don't worry I have LOTS more where that came from!) without my amazing alpha/beta/muse/Boswell/Watson-to-my-Sherlock/soft kitty @searchingforlight. :-*

September 8, 2035

IMMC press room, pre-launch news conference, 5 days before launch.

“’So far,  Mars has been flown by, orbited, smacked into, radar-examined, and rocketed onto, as well as bounced upon, rolled over, shoveled, drilled into, baked and even blasted. Still to come: Mars being stepped on.’ And in the next week, this four-person team from the International Mars Mission Corporation is going to do exactly that. These individuals have devoted the last year and a half of their lives, as well as years before that, preparing for this first mission to the red planet. In all honesty, I’m just the man behind the curtain. This team sitting before you is the collective hero here- Gregory Lestrade, Michael Stamford, Margaret Hooper and William Holmes.” He gestured to each as he said their names. “I’ll be happy to turn the microphone over to them just as soon as I give you a brief summary of our mission…” 

Mycroft Sherrinford continued to speak cordially and succinctly into the microphone, delivering his best impression of a ‘man who has it all’. At the age of only 43, Myc - as he was familiarly known among his colleagues - was a bit of a prodigy; co-founding and creating several multi-billion dollar corporations before becoming CEO and lead designer of the IMMC, a collective that pulled together all the best space exploration teams from around the globe to collaborate in one common goal. Myc was an entrepreneur, a physicist and one of the five people you’d invite over for dinner in those imaginary scenarios. To top it all off, he was a genuinely nice guy who insisted on getting to know his employees beyond the usual ‘I recognize you as someone who works for me’ and made a point to be at every important event for his corporation, required or not.

Will rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. He reclined in his chair and crossed his long legs at the ankles under the table, the perfect picture of overburdened annoyance. Margaret elbowed him hard in the ribs and he scowled at her. 

Greg was speaking into his microphone now, pressing his palms eagerly onto the table in front of them, and causing the white tablecloth to bunch around his elbows. Will’s fingers itched to smooth it out.

“… and I know I speak for my entire team when I tell you all how eager, how  _ excited _ , we all are to launch on the 13 th . We’ve done some really exciting things here with the rocket technology and we’ve managed to cut the travel time way down, meaning that our trip will be more than twice as fast as the last few trips to Mars’ orbit.”

“Wrong.”

 

Seemingly unable to help himself, Will sat forward and spoke into the microphone with his deep voice, gravelly with disuse from the last hour. He cleared his throat drily and took a sip of the cup of water perched in front of him. 

 

“Not everyone is quite as eager to go tearing through space as you are, Greg, at a frankly  _ alarming _ speed of transport.”

As the reporters chuckled, Will looked over at Greg and winked. The reporters roared with laughter. Will was a crowd favorite among the media; young, handsome, and with a proper sob story to boot. Will’s mother, a physics professor, had been one of the seven aboard the failed  _ Kelvin _ mission, which broke apart seconds after its launch. Will had been eight.

A nasally voice interrupted Will’s train of thought.

“I wondered if, briefly, each of the four of you could tell us a bit about how your families have reacted to the fact that you’re taking this historic mission.”

 

Mike jumped at the opportunity to answer first, as he was normally forgotten among the more outspoken crew members. 

 

“Well uh … my wife, pretty proud she is, she had quite a load of time to get used to the idea as I was chosen for the team over two years ago. I actually went home to Texas this past weekend-  _ Go Longhorns _ ! - and was regarded as a kind of a local celebrity already. That was pretty neat. Got a nice discount on my smoothie even.” Mike patted his slightly rounded stomach and chuckled. “It had kale in it! Guess they thought I needed a little more room in my spacesuit.”

A reporter to Will’s left waved his polyester-clad arm furiously to grab the attention of the panel seated behind the table. A microphone was thrust in front of his face, and he grinned at the astronauts, revealing a row of glaringly luminescent teeth.

“What about you, Will? This is your first flight … are you nervous? You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” The polyester reporter barked a laugh, sneering at Will.

The lanky astronaut pulled himself up to his full height and stared down his nose at the man before answering.

“ _ Obviously _ anyone who isn’t terrified while they sit on top of the largest hydrogen-oxygen fueled system in the world as they light it on fire is an idiot.”

He flashed his most acerbic smile towards the man, allowing his face to wrinkle all the way up to his eyes, which he narrowed slightly. It was a warning. A line had been crossed; time to either play nice or back down. The reporter looked a bit startled, but lowered his gaze to the floor.

Finally, what seemed like hours later, the team was released from the prison of the conference room. Will made a break for the door, already dreaming about the cool dimness of the lab downstairs, fingers twitching in anticipation of the feeling of the microscope underneath them. Someone grabbed his arm just as he reached for the metal handle of the door.  _ Damn. So close. _ Will turned to see the top of Greg’s head, greying around the temples.

“Will! Martha and I are having a little get-together tonight. One last hurrah before the real serious business begins in a few days. Come, won’t you? There’ll be beer!”

Greg nudged Will in the ribs. Will tried not to wince. He’d gotten pretty banged around in the last simulation they had done the day before. Though Will barely tolerated most people, his team had gotten along surprisingly well the last 18 months. The quartet worked brilliantly together, building off of one another’s strengths, and practically reading minds as they anticipated the next moves of their crewmates. They were a well-oiled machine, and Will found himself pleasantly shocked that he, of all people, actually enjoyed their training sessions. He was used to the company of a sterile lab, with the occasional insect or plant to listen to his murmurings. He’d always been a bit of a loner, a weirdo, an antisocial hermit; there was no shortage of names used to describe him, spanning years of lunches eaten alone, avoidance of large groups of people, books knocked out his hand, body pushed down, glasses tossed around. He’d embraced the solitude, wrapping it around him like a brisk Autumnal ensemble. Sure, he could be charming and friendly, but it was an act that he couldn’t ever sustain for long periods of time. After only a few minutes, he always felt exhausted, needing to retreat back to the comfortable silence of seclusion. Once people got to know him, beyond the handsome face or the quick wit, they usually ran for the hills; put off by his particular brand of dark humor, his overly analytical brain, and his ability to get so absorbed in his research that the world around him faded away.

He drew in a slow breath, feeling a cool bead of sweat trickle between his shoulder blades and plastered his friendliest smile on his face.

“Sure, Greg. I’ll stop by. I’m holding you to that beer.”

Greg clapped him on the shoulder, grinning broadly. Will felt a pang of guilt, knowing he would only stay long enough to make an appearance and disappear as soon as possible. Greg had been a good friend to him for as long as he’d been with IMMC; always cheerful and supportive, even during the two years Will was gone. Greg had been the only one to write him letters, never pushing him to return, but always lending an encouraging word. Those letters had helped pull him out of the darkest days, probably more than Greg knew. He’d trust Greg with his life. And he was, he thought with a dark chuckle, in only five short days.

Sighing heavily, Will turned toward the glass doors and headed out into the bright September sunshine, the humidity of the late afternoon suffocating. There wouldn’t be enough time to set up the rest of his experiment today, not if he wanted to make it to Greg’s party - and back home- at a decent enough hour.

* * * * * * * * * *

The cuffs of Will’s purple silk shirt, rolled up to his elbows, were damp as two women clutched at them. They were twins, _fraternal at that,_ as they had told him at least three times. They trilled, batting their eyelashes at him, causing him to slosh his beer over his hand as he tried to steer them towards the couch, hoping to deposit them and flee. Since he had arrived at Greg’s just over two hours ago, he’d been swamped with women throwing themselves at him, wanting to know “ _what was it_ _like to be an astronaut?”_ and would he “ _bring them back a Martian rock, Spaceman?”_ It was ridiculous, that’s what it was, this sudden ascent to popularity. Will flirted politely, feeling distinctly uncomfortable in his own skin, but dulling the edges with enough beer to pretend to enjoy himself for just long enough to be socially acceptable. He guided the two women, Janine and Irene, onto the sofa in the center of the cozy living room and frisked off, waving his hand over his shoulder with the promise of returning with drinks. Once in the kitchen, he headed straight for the sliding patio door. He opened it and stepped out into the damp heat, onto the small balcony. Thankfully, there was only one other person out there, finishing the last few puffs of their cigarette. They nodded to Will and snuffed it out on the balcony railing, before pulling open the sliding door and slipping back inside. The sudden noise from the party snapped off quickly with the click of the latch.

Will breathed in deeply through his nose, clasping his hands, and leaning his forearms on the railing. He let his head hang down, rolling it slowly from side to side. He hated nothing more than admitting his own feelings, even in his own head, but his scathing retort during the press conference earlier that afternoon had held a kernel of truth. He was terrified of the upcoming flight. He had only been on an airplane a handful of times, and although he had wanted to be an astronaut since he was a small boy, watching shuttles at Cape Canaveral, he hadn’t given much thought to the actual act of the launch. He remembered the cold feeling, seeping all the way to his toes, the flashes of blinding white light and the way the sparks flew out in all directions like macabre fireworks on that particular day in May. He remembered the smell of the smoke, different from the clean smell of burning fuel as the craft carrying his mother had launched from the pad and exploded over the ocean just two hundred twenty  seconds into their flight.

He  _ knew _ that in the twenty-three years since, the technology had evolved in such a way that it was practically foolproof. He knew that the rockets that had been meticulously built for this mission were the most sophisticated of their kind, elegant in their design and created by the world’s leading engineers. He knew that Myc himself had designed the three part spacecraft that he would be encapsulated in for the 45-day journey. But still, the pit in his stomach remained hard and cold. He knew it wouldn’t relent until he was safely out of the atmosphere, maybe even until he was back on solid – Earthly -- ground.

Of course, he chided himself, he was excited about the mission, anxious to carry on with the data collection and legwork required. In fact, it had been his idea to use artificially created perfluorocarbons to initiate the planetary warming process that had been the catalyst for this entire mission. This was groundbreaking research that had finally cracked the cold case plaguing the research teams for years. He was making a name for himself; he was fulfilling his lifelong dream of launching into the stars. So why did he feel so empty inside, as though a supermassive black hole had formed directly below his ribcage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A whole lotta research went into this fic, and into this universe where I’ve unceremoniously dumped our favorite detective and doctor. I’ll try to include links to my research and to give credit where credit is due for quotes, ideas and research that I’ve used shamelessly. :) 
> 
> Mycroft’s first lines are taken directly from Buzz Aldrin’s 2013 book, _Mission to Mars: My Vision for Space Exploration_
> 
> Mycroft’s character in this ‘verse is based on Elon Musk, creator of Tesla vehicles and co-founder of SpaceX, whose research and plan for Mars missions guided the direction of this fic. Another notable company with big plans for future Mars exploration is the Dutch company Mars One, so the IMMC is my optimistic combination of the two :) Read about Elon Musk [ here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elon_Musk). and Mars One [ here](https://www.mars-one.com/about-mars-one). 
> 
> Will’s groundbreaking research is based on [ this proposal ](https://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2001/ast09feb_1/). presented by Margarita Marinova when she was an undergrad student at MIT. Since this is a very old article, I’m not sure if that idea has been since tossed out, but I liked it for my fic. Margarita is now kicking ass as an Aeronautical Engineer and the Senior Mars and Vehicle Systems Development Engineer at SpaceX. Here’s some more (current) research on the [ greenhouse effect on Mars ](https://sciencing.com/mars-greenhouse-effect-1914.html).
> 
> Will’s retort about anyone who isn’t terrified sitting on top of the largest hydrogen-oxygen fueled system in the world as they light it on fire is taken from John Young, after being asked if he was nervous about making the first Space Shuttle flight in 1981. His actual quote was “Anyone who sits on top of the largest hydrogen-oxygen fueled system in the world, knowing they’re going to light the bottom, and doesn’t get a little worried, does not fully understand the situation.” He was a bit nicer :) 
> 
> To get a feel for the types of questions the astronauts might be asked, I watched the Apollo 11 Pre-flight conference [ here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWjNqCtUe4s). It’s quite a blast from the past. 
> 
> Finally, Will’s mom’s doomed flight was patterned after the explosion of the Challenger in 1986. Since this fic is set in the future, Mrs. Holmes would have barely been a toddler then, thus, I had to fabricate my own space shuttle explosion. Tedious. I did watch footage of the Challenger breaking into pieces over the ocean and it was heartbreaking.


	2. Ticket to {Mars}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will meets an intriguing colleague and a [free] kale smoothie threatens to ground the entire flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to my two amazing betas for this chapter- @searchingforlight ([ raindropsncloudyskies ](https://raindropsncloudyskies.tumblr.com/)) and [@ThornyPeach3 ](https://thornypeach3.tumblr.com/). Seriously, without them (and a certain male model ;-)), this chapter would be a mess. Especially friggin arms in polo HEMS. Thank you also to 5am bursts of inspiration. Who needs sleep when you're being visited in your dreams by some hot space bois?? 
> 
> This chapter's theme song is [ Ticket to the Moon ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXBiPY8wDT0) by Electric Light Orchestra. We'll just pretend it's actually a ticket to go PAST the moon and straight on to Mars, ok? :)

John stood up and collected his empty coffee cup and his worn canvas bag, which he slid onto his shoulder. He rubbed his other hand over his eyes, bleary from staring at his computer screen all day. As he made his way to the main lobby, he glanced around the airy, modern room. It was late, and he didn’t see any other heads poking up over the tops of their cubes. Must be the last one to leave again. He didn’t mind, in fact he rather preferred the quiet to the buzzing attention he had received only a few years prior.

Nearly three years ago, John had been the head of a team of engineers that designed an ecopoiesis test bed, to be housed in a large cylinder and planted into the Martian soil. Together with four others, he took the first mission to the red planet, bringing the cylinders and loading them onto the descent vehicle that met them in the Mars orbit. The descent vehicle then brought the cylinders to the surface of the planet and rovers collected them to plant deep in the soil, where it relayed data via satellite back to Earth. The trip had taken four months each way and pushed everyone to the brink of their psychological well-being. John had returned mentally rejuvenated at the prospect of their prototype working, but physically drained. He had scarcely had time to recover, however, before he was thrown into the dark chaos that had followed The Phone Call.

Walking down the glass-walled hallway, dim now as the sun sunk heavily into the horizon, he shook his head to prevent the thick black tar of his thoughts from closing over him. He noticed he was limping slightly, back stiff and sore from too many hours spent hunched over his desk.

John decided to take the long way out to the parking lot, through the basement, as he hadn’t been down to the labs in ages. It’s not like he was in any hurry to head back to his stifling apartment, especially not on a scorcher of a day like today. He headed for the far staircase, trying to blank out his exhausted brain.

* * * * * * *

A door slamming in the corridor startled Will, causing his head to snap up from where he was doubled over his microscope. He yanked his headphones out of his ears and grabbed his phone to check the time. Instead of faintly glowing numbers, however, he was met with a solid black screen.

“Shit.” He’d clearly lost track of time down here in the sterile, windowless room. He whirled around, momentarily disoriented, then picked up his phone again to type in the last few notes from his day.

“SHIT.” Still dead. Forgot.

He scrabbled around for a piece of paper to jot down his notes before he lost his train of thought. The door to the lab clicked open, and he whipped around to glare at the interruption.  

A man shuffled in, greying blond hair ruffled as though he’d been running his hands though it absentmindedly all day. He walked stiffly; in pain, but desperate not to be. 

“Everything all right in here? I heard a shout … just thought I’d check and make sure …” The man trailed off, eyes drifting around the room, probably looking for the source of the disaster.

Will’s eyes softened just a bit.  This wasn’t the usual unwelcome interruption; the coworkers who burst in and couldn’t help chiding him for “wasting his life away in the lab”, demanding that he join in the exhausting social rituals that his department was so fond of. This appeared to simply be a concerned colleague. Must be a colleague; bag slung over his shoulder, stiffness probably from spending the day hunched over a computer. Most likely a researcher with no idea who Will was. Better that way, probably.

Suddenly self-conscious of the way he was tensely coiled over the lab table, Will pulled himself up to his full height and straightened his shoulders. He gave a quick nod in the man’s direction, wishing he could say something witty, but his words seemed to escape him. Instead he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

“Can I borrow your phone? It’s just … uh … mine is dead. And I need to email myself my notes, before I forget.” He held up his phone to prove his point, turning his entire body towards the man still lingering awkwardly in the doorway.

In response, he stepped forward into the room, sliding his bag onto the smooth surface to dig through it. He cleared his throat and held the device out over the lab bench to Will.

“Yes, of course. Here you go.”

The man’s low voice was like melted caramel, thick with a raspy edge to it as though it had been poured through a strainer. He had the slightest hint of a drawl, slowing his vowels just so and biting off the ends of sentences quickly before a “sir” or “ma’am” slipped out. Will found himself mesmerized, wanting to ask him another question, anything just to hear that voice again. He grasped the phone and dragged his own eyes away from the steely blue pair that seemed impossibly far away despite their proximity. Will’s fingers stuttered on the keyboard as he hurried to type in his notes. 

He handed the phone back to its owner, the  _ whoosh _ of the sent email loud in the cold room. 

“Thank - uh, thanks. Needed to get all that out of my head.  It’s absolutely crucial that my notes are meticulous, or the whole experiment will have been a waste. That just wouldn’t do, at all.” Will flicked his hand sharply as he spoke, to convey the urgency of the situation. 

The man nodded once and stuffed the phone back in his bag. Will watched as he slid the strap back onto his shoulder, then turned toward the door. 

“Since you’re alright, I’ll just be off, then. Glad I could help.”   


With that, he pushed open the door and disappeared into the dark corridor. 

Will listened until he could no longer hear the uneven steps on the polished cement floor before he moved. He slid his blank phone into his pocket and mechanically collected the notes and loose materials he had scattered on the lab table throughout the day. He threw away the forgotten half of the apple that had sufficed as lunch and scooped up his own bag, slinging it onto his back before flicking off the lights and striding down the hall. Even though he knew he was long gone, Will couldn’t help but glance from side to side as he walked to the parking lot, hoping for another glimpse of golden hair and tanned biceps disappearing into the sleeves of a snug polo. When he reached his motorcycle, tucked in the corner of the lot under the shade of a silver buttonwood tree, he swung one long leg over the seat, fastening his helmet as he started the bike. It felt wonderful to move, to feel the wind whipping past him, to let his mind fill with nothing but the sounds of a hot September evening, spreading out before him large and empty. He was anxious for a shower and a glass of something cold pressed into his palm. A smile crept onto his face as adrenaline sang in his veins, pushing him to speed up just past the edge of safety as he flew down the coast. 

He took the long way home, breathing deeply as the smells of life filled his lungs; smoky charcoal from a backyard grill, the citrus tang of orange trees, the subtle perfume of palm trees that reminded Will of a tiny backyard with a spectacular view of the coast, his bare feet tickling in the grass as his mom scooped him up, giggling and breathless. He drank it all in, already feeling homesick for the solid ground of this planet. 

When he finally pulled into his apartment complex, the sun had completely sunk below the horizon, unfortunately not taking any of the heat with it. Will’s shirt stuck to his back as he walked the flight of stairs up the side of the building and fished his keys out of the front pocket of his backpack. He headed straight for the bathroom once inside, turning on the shower and stripping his clothes off in a few swift movements. He stood in front of the sink as he waited for the shower to heat up just enough to not make his teeth chatter and stared at himself in the mirror. 

“Soar to the stars, but don’t stop there.” He whispered to his reflection, hearing his mother’s voice echo it back in the white tiled room. He scrubbed a hand over his face and climbed into the shower, feeling heavy and much older than his birth certificate would claim. 

Scrubbed clean and marginally cooled off, he wandered into the kitchen to find something to eat. He planned to watch the next of the Hobbit trilogy tonight, an old classic, but one of his all time favorites. He knew the movies well enough that he could let his mind drift as the voices of Bilbo and Smaug filled his lonely living room. 

He located his phone in his backpack and plugged it in, letting it charge enough to reboot as he waited for his dinner to heat up. 

When the microwave dinged, Will collected his bowl of warmed pasta and a cold bottle of beer and made his way to the couch, touching the screen of his phone briefly when he walked by to check for messages, more out of habit than actual expectation. He was shocked to find the lock screen filled with little message bubbles- 8 missed calls and 6 text messages. His stomach dropped- he knew these weren’t social calls. He checked the call log; three from work, one from Mike and four from Greg. Not bothering to check the messages, he punched the call-back button, his mind already devising a variety of scenarios; someone was hurt, the flight had been cancelled, something terrible had happened to all of their research, years lost in a freak accident somehow. Luckily for his growing panic, Greg answered on the third ring. 

“Jesus, Will, thought you’d fallen off the face of the Earth! Been trying to reach you for hours- was about to send a search party out for ya. Listen, I’ll get right to it- Mike’s been pulled from the flight.” 

Will’s brain took a minute to sift through the words as they trickled in through his ears and pushed out the panicked scenarios he had been rapidly devising.

“Mike? Why? Did something happen?” 

Greg chuckled then, easing the tension in Will’s shoulders minutely. He realized he was still clutching his bowl of pasta and set it back down, grabbing his beer instead and taking a long drink. He leaned forward onto the counter, awkwardly bending his head because of the short cord connecting the phone to the wall. Concern for his friend warred with his own selfish thoughts.  _ Would they still launch? If not, when would they have another chance? If the whole project was pushed back, he’d lose some of his funding and several of his experiments would have to be completely recreated.They had been meticulously timed to coincide perfectly with the launch.  _ Will realized Greg was talking again, likely answering the thousands of questions pinging around his brain like rubber bouncy balls as he pulled himself back to listen. 

“...shitty luck. Trying to be healthy, drinking one of those nasty smoothies that looks like it’s made out of pond scum and BAM. There’s another damn e.coli outbreak, kale this time, and wouldn’t you know it, College Station was on the list of affected cities. Med doesn’t want to risk it- said he could possibly not show symptoms for a few days, but we’d already be up by then and the risk for dehydration would be too high. They’re scrambling to get the back-up crew notified but I told them I’d talk to you first. Mike wants us to go ahead with the launch without him, pull up just one from the other crew to replace him instead of scrapping all four of us. Molly agrees with Mike- that we go ahead with the launch. What do you think, Will?” 

A new person? As a rule, Will was generally against new people, taking a long time to open up and trust anyone, especially with something as serious and intimate as this. It had taken him months to learn to let go incrementally, to give up control when necessary and trust his team’s expertise. They had proven to be capable. With only three days until launch, replacing one of their four would be like jamming a rusty and broken cog into a well-oiled machine and hoping it still ran just as smoothly. 

“Absolutely not. We could never make it work. Mike’s been with the pod project since the start, who would run that? And he’s our medic! There’s no way, Greg.” 

“Will, we either use the back-up or we forfeit the trip. You know they won’t fund this a second time. They’ll stick in the generators for the emissions. Everything you’ve worked so hard for for the last three years would just be gone. Again. You already got your second chance; you know damn well Myc won’t give you another one. Molly and I both vote yes on continuing the launch, but we need your vote too.”

Leaning on his elbows, Will bit his tongue until he tasted blood and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Greg had  _ never  _ mentioned the two years he had been gone, acknowledging that it was something that had happened that needn’t be discussed. Will had returned with an overly-zealous thrust back into his research, discovering the secret of the PFCs just two months after his arrival. Will knew this was Greg’s way of prodding him to seriously consider what exactly he’d be throwing away if he refused this mission now. He’d never get another chance. He knew that and deep down, he was grateful for Greg’s slightly-abrasive handling. He blew out a breath before answering. 

“Ok. Let’s get the back-up. Hope they know what the hell they're doing.” 

Later that night, as he drifted off to sleep, Will thought of deep blue eyes staring intensely at him across a cold lab table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few things of note in this chapter:  
> [ Inspiration for John's Capsules ](https://www.nasa.gov/feature/planting-an-ecosystem-on-mars)  
> [ John works in an open office similar to this one ](http://thealannote.com/ColonizationOfMars/inside-spacex-headquarters)  
> [ How I Visualize Will's Lab ](https://www.videoblocks.com/video/team-of-scientists-in-laboratory-analyzes-bio-plants-seeds-biochemistry-concept-bowvoex2xj0l9fsag)
> 
>  
> 
> Wondering what Will dreamed about when he fell asleep thinking about lovely blue eyes? Wonder no more. [ Will's {hot} dream ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14428749)


	3. Hallo Spaceboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson makes a life-changing decision and things get a bit...hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY for betas who edit BEFORE their morning coffee <3 <3 <3 seriously. 
> 
> This chapter's theme song is [ Hallo Spaceboy ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q_Ph72pCNlM) by David Bowie. I used to think I didn't care much for Bowie. I used to be wrong. 
> 
> Apologies for such a long wait. This story got slid to the back burner a bit while I wrestled with the angst of Keep Your Eyes Fixed on Me. 
> 
> ENJOY!

John made his way down the dim corridor and up the stairs into the still-sweltering evening air, a unexplained lightness to his steps that wasn’t there before. He blinked when he stepped out into the parking lot, startled by the blaze of the setting sun sinking just over the horizon. He shielded his eyes as he looked for his car, parked all the way at the back, looking forlorn amidst the asphalt desert. He headed towards it, already sweating, possibly because of more than the Florida heat. 

Of course, John knew exactly who he’d just met. Though they’d never crossed paths before tonight, John had seen the famous Will Holmes on TV plenty of times, especially lately. He’d recognized him immediately, though he looked younger in person. He had a wide-eyed innocence to him underneath those steely grey eyes; so intelligent, like they held the secrets to the universe. John knew that the news and media had been crawling over the building in the last few months to get exclusive interviews with the crew before they left on their mission. John had done his fair share of interviews a few years ago, but the attention had thankfully dwindled with each flight to the Mars orbit. They wanted the big story now and were bored with anyone who hadn’t actually touched Martian soil. 

Unlocking the door with his key fob, John slid into the front seat of his car, heat rolling off the leather in waves. His hair stuck to his forehead and he blew out a hot breath, cranking up the air conditioning and waiting for the steering wheel to cool down enough to touch. 

John’s phone rang, startling him from thoughts of those intense gray eyes, peering inquisitively at him over the slab of the laboratory bench. Something about that gaze unnerved him. It was so different from the expression the younger man usually wore that John felt a little guilty, like he had somehow caught him indecent, without the usual layers he piled on for the public. Down there in the lab, in his domain, he wasn’t the same arrogantly brilliant guy with the jaunty grin. He had looked softer, vulnerable almost. He had jumped visibly when John had opened the door, like a startled wild animal. But then he had been so cold and withdrawn, barely even making eye contact and not even bothering to introduce himself. John shook his head, annoyed with himself for giving this much thought to such a brief encounter. 

The sound of his voicemail alert startled him and he realized he was still holding his phone, too lost in his own thoughts to even answer it. He stabbed the screen to listen to the message on his car’s Bluetooth speakers, shifting into reverse as he did so, the car finally cooled off enough to be handled. 

Mike’s voice filled the interior of the car -- “John. I have a massive... favor. Thing. To tell you. Ask you. Just... call me back.

John frowned and hit the button on his steering wheel to play the message again. He hadn’t talked to Mike in months, since John was no longer in the hands-on part of the research team. He knew Mike was part of the team going on the upcoming flight. In fact, John had been the one to recommend him for the position. Like John, he had been involved with the ecopoiesis project from the beginning, but had been mostly content to stay in the sidelines during the first three flights. After John’s final flight, Mike had been one of very few people from work that knew what had happened and had checked in on him in the following weeks. It was his gentle support and sympathy that had carried John through many dark nights. Mike never failed to open his home with a kind smile when John showed up at his door late at night, needing a couch to crash on when he couldn't handle the oppressive silence of his own home. John knew he probably owed Mike his life, so he was thrilled for him that he was getting the chance of a lifetime to go on this flight and glad that he had been the one to encourage Mike to apply for the position in the first place. 

Curious, John pressed the redial button. Mike answered on the first ring, a loud scraping sound on his end making John cringe.  

“John! Oh thank god. You got my message?” 

John’s eyebrows quirked up. Mike was breathing heavily into the phone, and the scraping noises continued, muffled now as though he was walking or running while holding the phone against his face. 

“You okay, man? Suddenly decide to take up jogging?” John teased, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. 

“John. I’ve been pulled from the flight. Ya know how I went home … ok, you probably didn’t even know. Haven’t talked in awhile, have we? Ok, well I went home last weekend to see my family to say goodbye before I leave on Friday. This afternoon I got a call that there’s been another one of those  _ goddamn recalls.  _ Fucking  _ kale.  _ All of it in the whole damned state of Texas has been recalled, and I drank one of those smoothies, tasted like grass mixed with apples. Nasty as hell and now it’s gonna cost me this trip. Meds are afraid if I did contract e.coli or what-the-hell-ever, it would probably hit right as we ascended. Wouldn’t that just be shit luck. Not even worth it. KALE!  _ Fuck _ , I’m pissed. Couldn’t have been a cheeseburger or something…?” He drew in a deep breath then and John glanced down at his screen, as if he could see Mike’s expression through the phone.  _ What shitty luck _ , John thought.  _ Really sucks. But why call me?  _

“John.” Mike’s voice dropped back to his normal tone; it had crept up at least an octave during his rant. “They’re gonna pull the whole crew. I just, I feel so guilty. I need …” John heard him suck in a quick breath. “I need a favor. I know you said you’re done, retired. It’s just that, well. You know the project, you’ve got the medic background. John, either you fill in for me or the whole team is scrapped and they pull up the back-up.” The last words were said all in a rush, followed by sudden, complete silence. John glanced back down at the screen to make sure they hadn’t accidentally gotten disconnected. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and took a deep breath to force his shoulders to relax. Guiding the car with a lot more calm than he felt, he found an exit and pulled into a parking lot. Mike was silent, his quiet breathing the only hint that he hadn’t hung up while John sorted out his thoughts. He stared blankly at a dark shopping mall, locked up for the night.  _ Like I was supposed to be,  _ he thought.  _ Closed up shop. Shut the door on that part of my life forever.  _ There was no way he was even going to consider it. He’ll just tell Mike, he’s sorry but …  _ But what?  _ An annoying voice smirked in his head.  _ What else do you have? This mission will be dangerous as hell ... _

“John?” Mike’s voice was hesitant. “Ya know what? Sorry, man. Sorry- I should’ve know. I shouldn’t have even asked … I’ll see if they can just pull up one from the back-up crew or something. I dunno. It’s not really even my problem to sort it out- they’ve got people for this. I just thought I’d ask. Thought maybe you’d want to give it one more go--” Mike trailed off uncomfortably. 

John barely heard him, continuing the argument with the voice in his head, the one that sounded suspiciously like a cocky astronaut he’d met once, in a cold basement lab …  _ What do you have to lose, John? You have nothing here.  _ He thought ferocious thoughts at the voice and it cowered, eyes wide and wounded. John scoffed, possibly out loud.  _ Damn.  _

“Mike. I’ll do it. What the hell do I have to lose, anyway?” 

 

* * * * * * * * * * *

 

He’d sat in the parking lot for a long time after he hung up the phone, staring at nothing, one thought repeating in his head ad nauseum:  _ What. The. Hell. Was. He. Thinking? _ It eventually took on a rhythmic beat and John thumped his head on his steering wheel in time. After a while, he had sat up and sent a single text: 

**I’m going on the Mars Mission. I leave in three days.**

He hadn’t expected a reply and he hadn’t gotten one. He had driven home in the stifling heat, fiercely missing the cool autumn air that came with September in the Midwest. Seven years ago, he had moved to the muggy armpit of the United States and had never fully adjusted to the climate. He despised being hot, and he hated the way everything felt too close here. Surprised, as he hadn’t thought much about his hometown in years, he found himself aching suddenly for expansive, flat prairies and wide-open fields, the crisp blue of the sky meeting the golden stalks of corn, interrupted occasionally by white clapboard farmhouses and dark red barns, the rotting wood crumbling into limestone older than man. He allowed himself a few moments of homesickness for his childhood home, memories that he knew had grown fonder with nostalgia. He remembered ice-cold lemonade being sipped on a narrow porch swing, the smell of the paint they used on the picket fence each spring, and the way the sunlight looked as it streamed in the stained glass windows of his father’s church in the early morning. John remembered the smooth wood as he rubbed his palms over the backs of the pews, trying as hard as he could to play quietly in the hours before the services started, already looking forward to lunchtime when he could strip off his uncomfortable suit and dressy shoes and put on his play clothes. 

John had gone immediately to his closet when he got home and dug out his IMMC-provided duffel from the back of his closet, shoving in some necessary items for his trip. He knew from experience that he wouldn’t need much in the way of clothing, but that the hardest part would be the numbing boredom of a long trip in a fairly small space. He’d tossed a few books and his headphones in the bag, searching for his tablet and charger, and spent the rest of the night downloading movies onto the device, studiously  _ not _ thinking about anything at all. 

The next day he’d cleaned out his fridge and asked a neighbor to look after his meager apartment. On Thursday, he had called to have his mail delivery put on hold, indefinitely. Between sorting out the tedious details involved with taking a sudden four-month leave of absence from his life, he also had to put in long hours with last minute suit adjustments and hurried simulations with the rest of the team. Greg and Margaret- _ please-call-me-Molly  _ were pleasant and friendly to him. John had always liked Greg; they had gotten along well during the previous flights, although they still didn’t know much about one another. He was a quiet guy, serious about his work but nice enough, an amicable captain. Molly was wonderful; funny and warm, smart and witty. She kept the long days of simulations from dragging and calmed everyone’s tempers when anxiety over their crash-course training as a team made them snappish with one another. Will was distant and aloof, wandering off when they took breaks and barely speaking to anyone, save clipped responses immediately pertaining to the task at hand. John had tried striking up small talk one time, but was met with an icy stare. John rolled his eyes and walked away, leaving the cranky chemist to glare sullenly at the wall instead.  _ Two could play that game, _ John thought. He was doing their team a massive favor, and Will would do well to remember that. Molly had caught his eye and stifled a laugh. 

“Yep. He  _ is  _ always like that. Thought we were making progress, but you seem to have sent him back to the Land of the Pouty Pricks. Way to go.” She’d huffed in mock annoyance and John had smiled at her. They’d chatted amicably until it was time to return to work. 

Now, on the eve of the launch, the four of them were quarantined in a small room in the back of the IMMC building. Their families would be arriving soon to bid them farewell, although they would be kept on the other side of a glass partition to avoid passing their germs on to the astronauts. John stood back and watched as Greg’s very-pregnant wife shuffled into the adjacent room with a soft smile and tired eyes, followed by the whirling tornado that was their twin boys. John smiled fondly; he remembered when they’d been born. They were only infants when he and Greg had left on the first flight and even though he’d hidden it well, John knew how much it pained Greg to be away from them. The next people to arrive were obviously related to Molly; her mom and two sisters, John guessed. They all had the same stick-straight brown hair and warm eyes. Molly’s eyes filled with tears as all three women murmured their encouragement through the speaker, glowing pride evident in their similar features. John found himself wondering about Molly’s life as a young girl in this house full of women. They all held themselves with the confidence of those who had become accustomed to success, natural feminists in a male-dominated world. He made a mental note to learn more about Molly.  _ I’m sure I’ll be able to find the time _ , he snarked in his head, feeling crabby for no real reason.

John’s gaze wandered as his thoughts drifted, exhausted from the day and wishing for his bed. He hadn’t really wanted to come down for this, would’ve preferred to have called it a night early since he knew there wouldn’t be anyone coming to say goodbye to him. He found that he wasn’t even upset by the idea. Another movement by the door made him blink his eyes back into focus. Will didn’t have anyone here yet either , it seemed. He was casually slumped against the corner of the room, scrolling through his phone and looking astoundingly bored. His right foot was crossed over his left ankle and his left hand was shoved deep in his pocket. His dark brown hair was artfully ruffled, the thick wavy locks matching his “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. Will clenched his jaw suddenly and raised his eyes, frowning when he caught John staring at him from across the room. 

John purposefully turned his head back towards the glass wall with a shrug and startled when he realized who was walking in, spine straight as an arrow and eyes forward. She stopped directly in front of him but her expression didn’t change; eyes and mouth set in a cold, hard mask that John had learned to loathe. He missed his  _ bride- _ the woman whose eyes lit up when she laughed and whose lopsided shy smile caused a wide dimple to form in her right cheek. He missed her soft skin and her unique smell. He didn’t know this woman in front of him any longer. She was a shell, a cold and broken ghost of a former life, bearing no resemblance to his soft and beautiful wife he had married eight years ago. 

“Gabi. You didn’t have to come.” He whispered, glancing around self-consciously. Molly and Greg were still deep in conversation, but he felt Will’s eyes staring at the back of his head. He knew the sudden chill in the air had probably reached the far corner of the room, but he refused to turn and give the other man the satisfaction of seeing his face. It probably wouldn’t take a skilled detective to work out the tension between John and his estranged wife, and he didn’t feel like explaining a damn thing to anyone. The only person that knew that they were separated was Mike and he had been spared the details. It wasn’t a topic that John was particularly keen on sharing and so he didn’t, not that he had any friends lining up to stick their noses in the grim particulars of his life anyway. 

Gabi shrugged, not meeting his eyes, but staring at a spot in the middle of his forehead to make it seem like she was. They were good at this, the delicate dance of pretending that everything was fine. His eyes traveled quickly over her face, noticing the dark circles and fine lines around her eyes that had deepened since the last time they had spoken. How long had it been? At least a year, certainly. She had lost weight, her clothes sagging around her petite frame. John felt a pang in his chest. He looked up at the ceiling, blinking until the tight feeling went away. 

“Thought I’d better come say goodbye. Just in case.” She said flatly.  _ In case what? I don’t come home?  _ His thoughts churned bitterly, burning his tongue as he bit them back.  _ Oh, Gabi darling, I couldn’t be that lucky.  _

“Also wanted to give you this. Found it in an old box.” She held up a round picture frame, the cheap pink plastic chipped away on the edges. John shook his head, staring at the ground near her feet. He swallowed hard, refusing to look at the photo that he knew was inside. He tipped his head. 

“Just leave it by the door. I’ll collect it when you leave.” He looked up then and into her eyes, hoping to see a spark of life, a hint that there was still something stirring deep inside, but he was met with flat disappointment; her once brilliantly blue eyes darkened nearly to grey, the color of lead, cool and distant. He cleared his throat and nodded tightly. 

“Thanks. See you.” 

She nodded and glanced around. Thankfully, the others were drying their tears and smiling through their final sentiments. One of Molly’s sisters was helping Greg’s wife pull apart the twins, who had started a scuffle on the floor. Their faces were flushed, and they were grinning, eyes bright and mischievous. John faked a coughing fit to hide the tight feeling creeping through him and turned away from the window, staring down at the cement floor until he heard the door close behind all of the visitors. A few people arrived to shuffle the astronauts to their sleeping quarters for the night. As John left the room, he bent down discretely to pick up the small pink frame, leaning against the wall below the window, pretending to tie his shoe. He stuffed it in his pocket without a glance, but kept his hand inside his pocket, rubbing his thumb over the smooth edge until he thought he might wear the color off of it. 

When he got to his assigned room, he tucked the frame directly into a pocket of his duffel bag, carefully keeping it facedown. Perhaps he’d work up the nerve eventually to look at it during the trip, but he knew he didn’t have to. The image was seared into his brain and the pain that accompanied it took his breath away. He scrubbed his face and brushed his teeth in the small bathroom, then laid down on his bed, fully clothed. Lying flat on his back, he stared at the ceiling, straining his ears to hear his crewmates moving around in their matching rooms, preparing in their own ways for their final night on Earth, at least for awhile. He tried to dredge up excitement, or anticipation, tried to remember the way he had felt lying in a similar room three times before, but he felt nothing except a dull ache, numbing more with each breath. He closed his eyes and immediately thought of Will, slumped against the wall earlier, his jaw jutted out in a pout. Something in John whispered to life, wondering again about the very different side of the man he had glimpsed down in the lab. Maybe all of his arrogance and bravado was covering up something else. John rolled his eyes and turned onto his side, pulling up his knees. It really didn’t matter. He would give Will a wide berth since he seemed so desperate to be alone. John would keep their relationship strictly professional, of course. 

With a scowl, he shook his head. Why would he even be considering anything else? He certainly didn’t need any new friends and he wasn’t exactly the friendliest person himself. And, he thought darkly, any  _ other _ type of relationship … well, John had decided long ago that there was no point in pursuing that. Rather, he had been informed rather forcefully by a red-faced father, who had caught him late one night on his computer, one hand down the front of his pajama pants, stroking himself in time to the young men on the screen, that he would ‘strike those sinful thoughts from his head at once and never allow them to return’. And he hadn’t, mostly. Of course, there had been a few lingering glances whenever he saw an attractive man in public, a neatly trimmed beard or nice cheekbones catching his attention, but he never allowed himself more than a look. 

He cursed under his breath as he slipped his hand down into his pants now, thinking purposefully of soft breasts and gentle feminine smiles. He grunted and stroked faster, letting his mind wander. After a few moments, a deep voice growled ‘ _ fuck off, John _ ’ and he stiffened, allowing himself to picture mysterious grey-blue eyes and artfully ruffled hair as the pleasure rolled through him, making him gasp in relief when it was finally done. He slid out of his sticky pants and wiped himself off on his boxers before tossing them on the floor. He knew he should be disgusted with himself, but that was the first orgasm he’d had in months and he was too blissed out to care. He dragged his pajama bottoms on and slumped back on the bed, barely checking to ensure his alarm was set before drifting peacefully off to sleep, his brain miraculously quiet.   
  



	4. Supersonic Rocketship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Launch Day!!! Join Will, John and the rest of the crew as they suit-up and blast off on their mission to Mars. Will has some anxiety and John is a BAMF-y hottie, as usual. ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Supersonic Rocket Ship by The Kinks ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=thXmHW4-WC4)
> 
> Lots of retro space race goodness here. <3

Will licked his dry lips and fought the urge to clap his hands over his ears. The room was a mix of voices; nervous, excited chatter punctuated by brisk directions from the suit technicians. He wondered why exactly so many people needed to be present in such a small room. Surely the crew was deserving of a basic amount of privacy as they got dressed? He glanced around irritably but no one else seemed bothered by the rather large crowd that had descended inside the four walls, which were growing smaller every minute. The volume in the room increased as a loud burst of laughter rang out. A group of young assistants were crowded around someone’s cell phone, attempting a selfie with each of the astronauts in turn. Will watched them warily out of the corner of his eye as the gaggle descended on Molly’s chair. At the sound of her quiet giggle, he felt his own shoulders relax minutely. Though Greg and John had been on multiple missions, this was only Molly’s second. Late last year, she had accompanied a crew up to the International Space Station to prepare the loading dock to receive their small crew shuttle for these missions. She didn’t seem to have any of the same nervousness this morning that Will felt creeping through his veins like slowly-drying cement. His limbs felt heavy with it and his eyelids were made of sandpaper, scratching against his dry eyes each time he blinked. He straightened up in the slick leather recliner, scowling as his lycra-clad limbs slid around awkwardly, and glanced at his watch. 

“T-minus three hours and counting!”

The suit-up crew leader clicked her way briskly towards where he sat in the leather chair, making her voice heard above the chaos. As she drew closer, a smile crept across her face. “Ready, Will? You’re up!” She said cheerfully, much too cheerfully. He forced a smile back, feeling tiny cracks form along his lips where they had dried out. The smile died out somewhere around the middle of his cheeks, well before reaching his eyes. She didn’t seem to notice. As he stood and stretched his long limbs, Will glanced around the room where his fellow crew members were being fussed over. Molly was still waiting for her turn on the platform and was chatting with Greg and a few of the technicians in the meantime. John had been the last one before Will to be fitted into his suit, and technicians were now swarming him as they fitted him with his helmet, gloves, and communication device. Through the open visor, Will could see John’s tongue poke out, swiping his bottom lip quickly before disappearing back inside. Will heard John’s deep, slow voice as he spoke to one of his technicians, flexing his fingers inside his gloves, and testing his microphone. John was watching and listening carefully as the young woman explained something to him, nodding his head, his eyes crinkling in the corners with concentration. Will blew a slow breath out through his nose and turned to ascend the three steps to the platform where the suit was hanging from large clamps, holding it in place for him.

Unlike the many predecessors, these suits were all one piece, designed to be entered from the back and zipped up, rather than pulled on like pants and a top. This allowed for much more freedom of movement once it was on, but made adorning it rather difficult; a three person job at least. He hesitated on the top step, feeling rather foolish so high above the rest of the room. He kept his back turned, focusing on the shape of the suit in front of him and chewing his gum steadily, feeling the muscles in his jaw crackle with tension. His eyes traced over the IMMC logo on the left shoulder of the suit as he tried not to think about the uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. He probably should have eaten breakfast, but he hadn’t been able to force down more than half a banana and a few sips of lukewarm coffee. The night had been long and bleak; the more he had thought about how much he should really be sleeping, the more the welcome unconsciousness had eluded him. Each time he had closed his eyes, he had been met with a vision of steely blue eyes as they peered out of the round window of a spaceship, looking sad. He tried to move towards the window, towards those eyes, but right as he had gotten close, the entire spaceship had exploded into a million tiny pieces, bright white and painful. The memory of the searing heat and the acrid smell of the obliterated metal had chased him throughout the lonely night. Eventually, his exhaustion had won out, and he’d fallen into a restless sleep for the few remaining hours before sunrise.

He realized one of the technicians was speaking and dragged his weary eyes over to him. There was a person on either side of the suit, directing his arms and legs to the correct locations. Will shimmied down into position, enjoying the glide of the silky material against his skin. The suit was surprisingly cool inside to prevent the astronauts from overheating before and during the launch. Once his limbs were sorted and adjusted, they slid gloves onto each of his hands, tugging and twisting until they fit comfortably. He flexed his fingers experimentally and glanced over his shoulder, the movement reminding him of John. John’s helmet and gloves had been removed once again. To stay cool, and maintain ease of communication while still inside the building, their helmets and gloves wouldn’t be put on until the final moments before launch. Will knew all of this, as they had done a complete dress rehearsal just days earlier to make sure that everything fit properly, but it was sinking in that this was the real deal today. John was chatting amicably with his technician and occasionally laughing at something Greg said, who was leaning over the arm of his own chair with a broad smile on his face. They looked so relaxed.  

Impatiently, the technician on his right cleared his throat, holding his palm up higher in front of Will’s face. Tucked under his other arm was Will’s helmet. “Your gum, Will.” Will snuck a glance at the name sewn onto his jacket -  _ Anderson _ \- had probably asked him already at least once while he was lost in his own thoughts. Embarrassed, Will glanced around for the garbage can and then held up his gloved hands helplessly, realizing that he had no choice but to spit the wad into the poor guy’s hand. He flashed an apologetic smile, but it was at the back of Anderson’s head as he had already jumped off the platform to deposit the offending substance into the garbage can across the room.

The helmet slid into place, and Will closed his eyes briefly in relief. The sudden silence was gratifying, like a cool sip of water on a hot summer’s day. He took a deep, steadying breath in through his nose and held it before letting it seep back out even more slowly through his pursed lips. He could do this. A loud crackling sound filled his helmet, and Will flinched at the interruption. “COM check, Will Holmes, copy?” Will nodded his head. A man with bright red hair and freckles nearly covering his pale skin stepped fully into Will’s line of view, pointing at his own headset. “Into your mic please, so we can check the output.” Will nodded again and cleared his throat. “Copy. Yeah, sorry. It’s good.” The man gave him a thumbs up and adjusted a few dials, before helping slide the helmet back off. Will peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket, then reached up with both hands to ruffle his hair back into place. As he stepped off the platform, he heard a murmur over his shoulder. “Bit of a weirdo, that one. Always lost in his own head.” Will tucked his head down to hide the flush creeping up his neck. It didn’t matter how often he heard it, the sting of those words never lessened. Just as he reached his chair and desperately hoped it would open to reveal a large chasm into which he could disappear, he heard a low growl behind him. “Hey! What a dick thing to say! That man is an  _ interplanetary astronaut.  _ What the hell are you? You help people put their clothes on. Fuck off and leave my crew alone.” Will’s mouth dropped open. He kept his head down and stood frozen in place, one hand gripping the arm of the chair so tightly his fingers ached. Luckily, no one else seemed to notice the hushed argument that had just taken place, which was just as well. Will needed time to compose himself. He felt as though his entire world had just been tilted on its axis. He could not remember anyone, ever, sticking up for him like that before. It had been years since anyone had so blatantly mocked him; he had become so adept at blending in and fitting the part that it thankfully hadn’t occurred in a while. But he knew this morning’s combination of exhaustion and anxiety over the flight had dropped his guard and created the perfect storm of defenselessness. He knew he had been lost in his own head most of the time he’d been seated in this hateful room, and he also knew that he must have had the faraway look on his face that he used to get all the time as a kid. His mom used to tease him to wait until people were done speaking before he visited space, but he couldn’t help it. Other people were dull, and his mind was much more interesting.

Shaking his head, he realized he was doing it again. He sucked in a breath and counted quickly to ten. He hadn’t even been able to figure out who had been speaking, shocked as he was that they were even bothering to come to his defense in the first place, but he knew he needed to thank them. Straightening his spine (a trick he’d learned as a scrawny kid - it always made him appear bigger than he really was), he shuffled his feet so he could glance over his shoulder surreptitiously. The activity in the room had dwindled as everyone completed last minute checks and adjustments before the crew made their way to the launch pad. Will turned and sank down into his chair, fiddling nervously with one of the zipper pulls near his knee. He feigned nonchalance, eyes scanning each person in the room for clues to his mystery defender. He didn’t know what he expected to see - perhaps a cape or a giant sign that said “fuck them”? Greg was talking animatedly to one of the technicians, gesturing with one of his gloves. Next to Greg, on Will’s left side, Molly was sitting up very straight on the edge of her chair. The heel of her left foot jiggled, and she had her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She was humming quietly to herself, her eyes glued to the large digital clock on the wall. Will leaned forward slightly so he could see to the other end of the row, past Molly and Greg. To his surprise, he found himself looking directly into the steady gaze of John Watson, who glanced to where Anderson was still standing by the platform, joined by another technician. Their heads were bent together, and they were whispering furtively. John met Will’s eyes once more and gave a small nod. Will’s eyes widened.  _ Oh.  _ His breath left him in a rush and his eyes felt warm and prickly. He dipped his head in what he hoped was a grateful gesture and stared at his feet.  _ ‘My crew’.  _ Of course. John wouldn’t want any bad publicity getting out about his fellow crewmates, that was all. That had to be it. Will felt something swell in his chest and swallowed loudly. He would  _ not _ cry in this damn room. He glanced back over to John, but the other man had already stood up and was making his way to the door, following the shuffling crowd. Will stood up too and looked around his chair quickly, making sure he wasn’t forgetting anything important. Anderson shuffled over and simply pointed at the door, not meeting his eyes. Will turned on his heel and strode to the door feeling ridiculously smug at the chastised look on Anderson’s weaselly face.

* * * * * * * * * * *

John led the four astronauts and their support staff through the brightly-lit corridors and past the small crowd of fellow IMMC employees that were waiting to send the team off. They clapped and cheered as the group made their way to the waiting caravan outside, the metallic International Mars Mission Cooperation logo reflecting the sun and shooting blinding light into their eyes as they all gathered in front of the vehicle for a photo op. John smiled and tried not to squint, ignoring the throbbing headache building behind his eyes. After what felt like an eternity in the solar spotlight, the crew climbed awkwardly inside the vehicle. Thankfully, the air conditioning was blasting, and each of their seats were cooled, but John could already feel pools of sweat collecting under each of his arms and in the small of his back. He looked out the window as they drove out of the compound, smiling and waving to the crowd as they waved their arms. He didn’t bother looking for Gabi. He knew she wouldn’t be there, and he was glad for it. He was already feeling jittery - seeing her face would only compound his anxiety. Right now, he needed to be calm and level-headed for the launch. He could wallow in self-pity once they settled into orbit. 

He turned his eyes back into the vehicle, blinking as he adjusted to the sharp contrast of the dark interior. Each astronaut had their own row in the van for the crew member, a technician and all of their gear. John’s technician assistant was named James, and the two of them got along well. He had been his tech for all of his previous flights. He was a former pilot, and his gentle, soft-spoken demeanor always helped to calm John’s nerves before the launch. James knew that John didn’t like to chat much once they reached the caravan - he preferred to use this time to go over the flight plan in his head and check in with his crew. As if reading his mind, James glanced over at him with a small smile and wordlessly passed him a bottle of water. John gave him a grateful smile in return and unscrewed the top, turning to look back at the other crew members. The van was eerily silent as each astronaut stared out the windows, lost in thought. Will must have felt John’s eyes scanning, because he blinked rapidly and turned away from the window to meet John’s gaze. Even from two rows away, John could see the same deep sadness that he had noticed in the younger man’s captivating eyes earlier that morning. John hadn’t been able to stay silent when he heard the way that asshole Anderson had spoken about Will. It had taken all of his willpower not to punch the dickhead right in his face. And though he had tried to hide it, John hadn’t missed the look of  _ resignation _ that had crossed over Will’s features just before he ducked his head, as though he was used to hearing that kind of shit from people. John’s anger flared up again, and he clenched his fist against his knee. He had no idea why he felt so fiercely protective of someone he barely knew, but he felt it deep in his core that he would do anything to never see that look cross Will’s face again. His chest constricted when he remembered the way Will had looked up at him a few moments later when he realized it had been John that had stuck up for him. He thought about how silent the usually arrogant young man had been all morning and wondered what was really going on in that brilliant brain of his. He vowed to find out.

The van rolled to a stop, and there was a flurry of activity as each person roused themselves and started gathering their helmets and gloves, double checking the seats and taking a last cool sip of water. No one wanted to drink too much. Even though they had precautionary devices in place for their biological needs, no one really wanted to experience zero-Gs with a full bladder, or worse yet, have to actually use the glorified diaper that was sewn inside their suits. The crew made their way up the orbiter access arm and shuffled to the side as Greg climbed into the small crew shuttle. Out of the small window, John could see the black letters that spelled out  _ Percival _ on the smooth side of the shuttle and felt a flare of pride inside his chest. His eyes burned.  _ Christ, he was emotional today.  _ He cleared his throat and busied himself with putting on his gloves, blinking furiously as the wetness threatened to spill over his lower lids. He kept his head down as Molly moved past him to claim her space inside the shuttle. James checked his COM wires and helped him slide his helmet into place. He kept the visor open - they would be given the command to lock them into place in the last few minutes before the launch.

Wordlessly, he followed James into the shuttle and took his seat. He was in the back row, situated so he could see both Molly in the pilot seat and Greg. Will would be seated shortly in the seat to his right. He shifted around until he was comfortable and allowed the Closeout Crew to fasten and adjust his seatbelt harness. They checked the COM one last time and then retreated. John busied himself with double checking that all of his zippers and flaps were fully shut on his suit before settling back in his seat. Will was climbing in next to him, nearly doubled over in the cramped space as he folded his long legs into place. John watched as he was buckled and adjusted, before the crew hastily made their retreat. With one final check, the shuttle door was locked into place. An almost reverent hush fell over the four of them. But then Greg yelled “Let’s get the HELL ON WITH IT! We’re going to MARS, BITCHES!” and the heaviness lifted. John laughed and heard Molly let out a “whoop!” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Will pump his fist in the air and grin. They were actually doing it. After a round of high-fives, they all settled back in their seats to listen to the “go/no-go” launch polls from mission control. At the seven minute, thirty second announcement, they heard the creak and groan of the orbiter access arm being retracted, and John heard someone suck in their breath. This was literally the point of no return.

 

“T minus two minutes”. 

John slid his visor into place and locked it. The only sound he could hear now was mission control as they continued the countdown. 

“T minus ten seconds”.

John could feel the shuttle shake and rumble as the main engine roared to life. Out of the small window, he could see the white smoke billow around the vehicle. He and Greg reached up and pulled the monitors down to lock them into place for the launch. The long touch-screen glowed with multi-colored controls.

 

“Ten” 

 

“Nine” 

 

“Eight” 

 

“Seven”

 

“Six” 

 

With each second counted off in his ear, John could feel the curl of excitement and anxiety bloom in his stomach. Unlike his first mission, though, he felt much more prepared. He remembered how he was so nervous by the ten second countdown, he thought he might be sick. 

 

“Five”

 

John suddenly remembered that this was Will’s first launch, and it dawned on him that that was probably why the poor guy had looked a bit green all morning. He risked a glance to his right and could feel the tension radiating off of Will - all the way from his fingers clenched tightly against the arm rests, to the way he had his legs tucked back against the seat, not moving a single muscle.

 

“Four”

 

“Three” 

 

“Two”

 

“One”

 

“LIFTOFF! To the crew of Percival, our very first Mars mission, good luck and godspeed! We’re excited to be on this historic journey with you! Enjoy your flight, lady and gentlemen!” 

John could hear yelling and cheering from the background at mission control through his headset and he smiled. He felt the rocket boosters ignite as they blasted the ship off the launch pad and there was a sharp jolt to his back. The ship continued to shake and rattle as it blasted through the lower atmosphere at over two Gs. John watched the clock counting up. He knew from experience that the next few minutes were the absolute worst part, as the Gs grew, so too would the pressure on the astronauts as they ascended higher through the atmosphere. He listened to the screaming outside as the engines pushed to full-thrust. At the two minute mark, there was a loud bang and a flash of white light. John could just see the tips of Will’s fingers as they clenched even tighter to his arm rest. John was pressed so hard against his seat he could barely breathe.

There was a click and the noise from mission control abruptly cut off. Another voice sounded in his ear. “John, this is the ground control med. I’ve got you on a private channel - Will’s stats are all over the place. Elevated pulse, blood pressure is skyrocketing, oxygen is dipping. Can you check in on him from your seat? I know this is his first flight so I’m sure it’s just nerves, but we don’t want the poor guy passing out and missing the all the sights.” John reached up and tapped a few buttons on the screen to mute his COM channels and start a direct line to Will. He was sweating by the time he lowered his arm, the pressure building as the shuttle accelerated to a whopping three Gs, where he knew it would remain for the final minute into orbit. This was the worst part, and he remembered how even more awful it felt his first time. He had been certain he was about to die. He clicked in to Will’s headset and dropped his voice low.

 

“Hey Will. How ya doing?” Though he couldn’t turn his head to look, he could sense a startled movement from the other man’s seat. He kept talking. “Hey, listen, this is the worst part and it’s almost over, promise. Everything is going exactly as planned, but I need you to do something for me. Copy?” 

Silence. John feared for a moment that Will may have passed out. If so, there was nothing they could do for him but monitor his stats. John hoped for his sake that he hadn’t, though, because the view was about to be spectacular. John heard a click and Will’s voice boomed into his ear, shaking badly. “John, I appreciate the concern, but there is  _ nothing wrong with me. _ ” John rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth as the pressure mounted impossibly stronger. It felt like an elephant had settled directly on his torso. He hissed a painful breath out through his teeth and regretted it when it felt like he couldn’t pull anymore oxygen back in. “That’s great. May I give you just a tiny piece of advice as a veteran pilot?” He waited.

“Fine.” Will’s voice had lost some of its tremor, but still came out weak and pitiful sounding, despite his obvious attempt at sounding irritated.

“Don’t puke in your helmet.”

Will barked out a short laugh, and John heard his breathing regulate slightly. His headset clicked and he heard the voice of the same med from ground control in his ear again. “Whatever you’re doing, John, keep it up. Will’s stats are getting back under control.”

John smiled and glanced at the clock. About 30 more seconds until they reached the magical Mach-25 and weightlessness. “Slow, deep breaths, Will. 30 seconds. And really, trust me about the barfing thing.” John heard him breath in and out slowly, once, twice, three times, watching out of the corner of his eye as the pale hand on the arm rest relaxed more with each inhale. He glanced up at the monitor. Mach-24... Mach-25! They did it! He heard the main engine cut off and felt the release as the thrust dropped to zero. They had made it through the worst of it. Instantly, the elephant on his chest vanished and his body floated up against the straps, in free fall at last. John wiggled his fingers and shook out his legs, then glanced over at Will. He was still pale and had his eyes clenched tightly. John reached his hand out and placed it on the other man’s forearm, squeezing gently when he felt him jump under his hand. Will’s eyes opened. John pointed at the window. “You don’t wanna miss this.”

Will turned his head to look out the window, and John watched in amazement as the most brilliant smile lit up his entire face at the sight of the glowing blue curve of the Earth, making him look so much younger. He heard a soft chuckle in his ear and turned his head to see both Molly and Greg also watching Will. They were both grinning ear to ear. “The first time gets us all, Will. You’re in good company.” Molly laughed quietly. Will turned back to look at them with tears in his eyes, and John felt his chest constrict again, only this time he knew it had nothing to do with gravity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna see what their suits look like? Oh all right ;-)  
> [ IMMC Spacesuit ](https://novator.io/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/c476546b45c96735831689d2c2bef887.jpeg)
> 
> And their ship, the _Percival_ is based loosely on SpaceX's DragonX :) I might sketch up my vision at some point.


	5. Space truckin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> did someone say deep space "road" trip?? ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out from behind fingers* You're still here? Cuz that was a long wait between chapters and I'm sorry!! Real life got in the way and then this chapter was stubbornly elusive for many days. And then it all erupted at once! Longest chapter yet, a bit of lighthearted silliness. :) Enjoy! 
> 
> This chapter's song is [ Space Truckin ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHOrpFeXUao) by Deep Purple. 
> 
> And if you're wondering, the Coldplay song that *I* was listening to during this was A Sky Full of Stars. Obviously, Chris Martin will still be recording when he's approximately 60 (in 2035), but John likes the classics by them too. Much like his author. :)

At the command from ground control, John popped the latch on his helmet and slid it off his shoulders, breathing a sigh of relief as the restricting headgear was removed. The other three astronauts in the shuttle followed his lead, the spacecraft echoing with similar sounds of relief. Barring any complications, the trip from the ground to the rendezvous point - the habitation module that would be their temporary home for the next forty-five days - would take about 6 hours. The actual docking needed to be extremely precise; any overshot in pitch could cause them to have to drop back to a lower orbit and complete the entire process again, a setback that could cost them as much as two days. John groaned inwardly at the thought of sitting in this seat for an extra two days. He hoped Molly was a good pilot. From what he had seen briefly during their simulations, he didn’t think he had to worry. 

Molly’s voice filled the spacecraft now, “I’m going to Mars and I’m going to pack an aspirin!” She flashed a playful smile over her shoulder at the three men, challenging them to play along with her silly game. John chuckled and, after thinking for a moment… 

“Ok, I’ll bite!  _ I’m _ going to Mars and I’m going to pack an aspirin and… a book.” He winked at Molly and she grinned. 

“See, John? That wasn’t so bad. Will, Greg? Dare to take the challenge? I have a whole arsenal of terrible road trip games up here” She tapped the side of her head with one finger, trying - and failing - to look serious, her eyes sparkling girlishly. “And I’m not afraid to use them if you don’t play along with this one!” 

Greg chuckled and held up his hands in mock surrender, settling back in his seat. “Alright! I’m going on a spaceship- ...” 

“Greg, I’m pretty sure you’re going to Mars,” Molly corrected him with a roll of her eyes, clearly enjoying herself. 

“Fine! I’m going to  _ Mars” -  _ Greg shot a pointed look at Molly -  _ “ _ and I’m going to bring with me… an aspirin, a book and a CD!” 

Will’s soft laugh made all three of them turn their heads to look at him, a bit shocked that he had even been listening. “A CD, Greg, really? Are you sure you don’t mean a  _ record,  _ old man?” His mouth tightened at the corners as he tried to hide his smirk. John and Molly laughed at Greg’s mock exasperation.

“Old!? Show some respect, young man! And go on, you’ve got D!” 

Will made a show of pretending to think of his answer, tapping one long finger against his lips before stabbing the air with it. “I’m going to Mars and I’m going to pack an aspirin, a book, a CD,” he rolled his eyes dramatically, eliciting a snort from Molly, “and a decimeter!” 

They continued the game all the way through the alphabet, laughing when their memories failed them, and being collectively impressed with Will’s contribution for X- “xanthic acid”. After the game, they fell into a comfortable silence, gazing out the window at the dark sky and the pinpricks of starlight that didn’t appear to be any closer than they did when viewed from Earth. 

“This kind of reminds me of college,” Molly said after a while. They were approaching the half-way mark of their journey to the HAB. “Like a… zero-gravity road trip.” 

“Welllllll…” John drawled. “You know what that means, then. We need some road trip music.” He shifted in his seat until he could slip his hand into a pocket on his thigh. He pulled out his iPod - it wasn’t the newest model, certainly, but it was in decent shape. It was scratched up from always being in his pocket with his keys and other junk, but it still worked. It had been a gift from Gabi for his fortieth birthday. He thumbed through his playlist as Greg connected it to the ship’s Bluetooth. After a few moments, the soothing sounds of Coldplay filled the shuttle and John settled back against his seat again. He let his eyes slide shut, listening to the music and the soft chatter of Molly and Greg as they discussed specifics of the upcoming dock. John noticed that he was slightly nauseous from the weightlessness, but was pleased to see that he was finally developing the famed “lead head”, a quicker adjustment period to the bizarre feeling of existing without gravity. He turned his head towards Molly and Greg and instantly regretted the swift movement. He clenched his teeth and hissed a breath in and out slowly through his nose while the nausea abated. Perhaps the lead head was just a urban legend, after all. Groaning inwardly, he peeked one eye open and caught Greg watching him with a mix of concern and amusement.

“Alright?” He asked with a sympathetic smile. John started to nod, thought better of it, and gave a small thumbs up. He knew from experience that quick head movements seemed to make it so much worse. 

“How are you two holding up?” Now that the adrenaline from the launch was wearing off, and the distraction of the game (clever, clever Molly. John felt a surge of affection for the woman) had waned, the effects of the space sickness would be difficult to ignore. Without turning around, Molly called over her shoulder. “Fine. Ok… not  _ terrible _ . Luckily, it seems to be just my stomach, and not my head at all yet - no dizziness or blurry vision. Good thing, since I seem to vaguely recall something important I’m supposed to do… soon…” John figured it was a good sign that she was still joking around. He decided to check in on her again later, just to be sure, but was quietly impressed by her solid strength, not for the first time. Greg flashed a thumbs up in his direction, too, as he touched a few buttons on the screen to his left. 

John remembered vividly how terrible he had felt during all three of his previous flights and felt a bit jealous that they were apparently getting off so easily. He had vomited for two days straight on his first trip, and had such terrible vertigo that he was constantly running into things (or once, another astronaut coming through a doorway). He had learned a few tricks since then, each flight getting marginally easier. As the flight medic this time, it was not only his duty, but his personal mission to make sure that no one felt that awful on this trip, if he could help it.

John realized that Will had been pretty quiet since their game ended and snuck a glance over at him. The younger man was pale, lips pressed together and breathing steadily through his nose. John felt a pang of sympathy, but hesitated before bringing attention to the astronaut’s malady. He didn’t want to embarass Will in front of the other two. He thought for a minute, then remembered a few things he had stashed in his bag. He unbuckled his seatbelt, and gripped the armrests as his body floated toward the ceiling, weightless without an external force holding it down. He turned over to his stomach and pulled himself hand over hand to the back wall of the shuttle, where their packs had been strapped in. He unclasped his own, and fished around until he found the items he was looking for. 

Flipping back around, he floated over until he was even with Will’s chair. He shook two of the foil-wrapped candies out of the package and caught them in his hand. Pinching the end of the wrapper between his thumb and forefinger, he held them out to Will. 

“Ginger candy. May help settle your stomach.” John said in a low voice. “Doctor’s orders.” He considered winking, but that seemed inappropriate somehow. 

Will looked up, a mix of surprise and relief in his impossible galactic eyes. John blinked, startled again by the twinge he felt deep inside whenever he looked in those eyes. A twinge that was replicated a second later by his traitorous body in his  _ very _ tight suit. He tightened his stomach muscles, curling in on himself where he floated next to Will’s shoulder, holding onto the back of his chair with one hand. Will nodded slowly and plucked the proffered candy from John’s fingertips. He unwrapped it and tossed it in his mouth, popping his lips at the intense taste. John found he couldn’t look away from the dip of his top lip as Will closed his eyes and breathed in slowly through his nose, rolling the sweet and spicy drop around in his mouth. John gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder and turned to drift back to his own seat. He shook a few more of the candies into the air and flicked them with the back of his hand to glide them up to Greg and Molly. Molly was sitting stiffly in her own chair, teeth clenched as she tried to concentrate on the screen in front of her. 

“Try one, Molly. They’re a bit spicy, but they’ll help.” She flashed him a grateful smile and snagged two of the treats as they drifted past. She handed one to Greg and they both popped them in their mouths. 

John slid back into his seat and buckled his straps back across his chest. He checked his watch and rolled his head slowly on his neck, wincing at the stiffness and thinking longingly of the bottle of Advil in his bathroom medicine cabinet at home. Even mild pain relievers like ibuprofen had to be approved and regulated through the medics back in ground control. Once they arrived at the HAB, he’d put in a request for the smallest dosage of the painkiller. They had been in flight for just over four hours by now and he was feeling restless. He flicked through the music on his iPod once more, selecting a few upbeat songs. Settling back against the seat, he let his gaze wander around the cabin and out the front window. He could just make out the HAB in the distance. They would need to ascend to the correct orbit level before pulling up close to dock. Assuming everything went off without a hitch, they should be climbing onto their home away from home in just under two hours. He sighed and closed his eyes. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

“Four minutes. Zero point eight. Doing good. Steady. Good. Good. Got it?”

“Mmmhmm.” Came Molly’s murmured reply to Greg. 

They two of them were hunched in their seats, faces serious but mostly relaxed. Greg held the docking binder in his hands and was reading out the directions to Molly, but her steady hands and focused gaze made it clear that she was in complete control, confident in her ability to dock the shuttle. 

“We’re at three hundred. Steady now. About a foot to the left.” 

John and Will sat quietly in their seats, watching out the curved front window as the HAB inched closer. Will’s job was to run backup diagnostics; if anything went wrong with any of the system during docking, he could start the backup system so they wouldn’t drift off course. Once they had  _ Percival _ perfectly aligned, they would fire the booster to drive her home.

“One minute. Holding steady at zero point four.” 

For the last fifteen minutes, the shuttle had been switched from the automatic navigation system that had controlled the orbital maneuvers as they ascended from the lower orbit into the HAB’s higher orbit. Like a predator chasing its prey, they had steadily gained on the HAB until they were within twelve hundred meters, when the navigation system was switched to manual. Molly was in control of the vehicle now and was slowly guiding it towards their docking station. Any miscalculation or overcorrection could cause them to withdraw, and retreat back for another shot. Depending on the severity of the mistake, the HAB could slip too far away for them to reach it with one booster, causing them to drop back to the lower orbit and start the process of approach again. 

John glanced at the cross-hairs on the screen in front of Molly. From his spot behind her, he had a great view of the HAB’s docking station as they glided towards it. Molly was lined up perfectly and just needed to hold steady, correcting slightly to compensate for the curve of the orbit, until the exact moment that Greg fired the booster. It would be within a few minutes. John heard a noise next to him and turned to look. Will was watching the screen as well, mouth parted slightly and eyes wide with barely-concealed excitement. When he caught John looking, however, his mouth snapped shut and his eyes narrowed. John was amazed at how quickly his entire face could change so drastically. He watched the muscle jump for a moment in Will’s jaw before turning back to the screen, shaking his head. 

The shuttle was silent as they all monitored the approach. Molly’s hands remained firm on the controls. John could see the tension in her shoulders, but her face stayed relaxed and her breathing was slow and steady. He felt himself relax too and allowed a quick daydream about stretching out in his cabin and removing his spacesuit. Smiling to himself, he wondered idly if the bag of root beer barrel candy he had stashed in the kitchen last time was still there. A tiny noise, a quick inhale of breath, snapped his attention back. 

“Shit.” He heard Molly curse under her breath. 

“What is it? Two hundred feet to boost. Fire ready.” Greg glanced sideways at her and his expression changed to one of disbelief. “Shit. Can you hold it - … ?” 

Greg’s question was cut off by another sharp inhale and then the loudest sneeze John had ever heard erupted from Molly’s petite frame. John’s head whipped to the side momentarily as the ship jerked. 

“DAMMIT!” Her yell was frantic, punctuated by an annoyed sniff and the sound of her fingers grappling to maintain control again. John held his breath. The shuttle had listed sharply when she sneezed, but her immediate reaction to jerk the controls back felt like it had tipped them the right way again. John waited for Greg’s assessment. 

“Holy hell… it’s actually… not too bad. Fixable.” He scrambled to adjust the pitch manually, tapping the screen as bright colored alerts flashed. 

“Sorry.” Molly muttered, focused once again. “I can do this. Hang on.” With rock-steady hands, she gripped the controls and tilted the shuttle once more. She tapped a few spots on the screen as well and the cross-hairs returned. 

“Fire in three.” Greg counted. 

“Two.” 

“One.” 

John felt the ship lurch forward as the rocket booster fired, closing the last distance. With the precision of a surgeon, Molly slid them into their final position. They breathed a collective sigh of relief. There was a beat of silence as they all looked around in disbelief, then… 

“Fuck yeah!” Molly pumped her fist in the air and Greg high-fived her. Within seconds, all of them had their seatbelts undone and had crashed into a four-person hug awkwardly in the middle of the shuttle. They took turns high-fiving and patting Molly and Greg on the back and shoulders. 

“Well done! Now let’s get off this dang ship.” 

John and Greg set to work pressurizing the hatch so they could go through to the module and settle in. It had been such a long day, and they were in need of some relaxation before their enforced sleep time. 

As soon as it was pressurized, they spun the airlock and swung the door open. “Welcome! Home sweet home!” John waved his arms in a flourish, grinning. He was exhausted, but relieved to have made it without any setbacks, and the crew was turning out to be a lot of fun to hang out with. Even Will, whose silence John was choosing to believe was because of his malaise and not his usual moodiness. Molly and Greg were shutting down the systems in the shuttle, since they wouldn’t be using it again until their descent. Without warning, Will suddenly lurched through the hatch, pushing against John in his haste. Molly’s head snapped up and she followed Will’s floating feet as they disappeared into the HAB. She raised her eyebrows at John.

“Someone’s had enough of the shuttle, I guess?” She laughed and turned back to the screen to finish the shutdown procedure. 

Frowning, John unbuckled his pack from the straps on the wall, and after a moment’s hesitation, unbuckled Will’s as well. John thought it strange that he hadn’t even bothered to collect it before zooming into the HAB. John figured someone should probably go check to make sure everything was all right. Since he was the crew medic, he supposed that duty fell on him. With a sigh, he turned and drifted through the hatch. 

He strapped the packs to strips of velcro just inside the hatch door on the HAB side and pushed off the wall to look for Will. The sound of retching could be heard from the far end of the module and John’s stomach clenched in sympathy. He flipped over and pulled on a strap to help propel him to where he remembered the on-board medical kit was kept. When he reached it, he pulled it down from the straps that held it into place and unzipped it hurriedly. He could still hear the sound of Will’s heaving and winced inwardly. He found the bottle he was looking for and stuffed the bag back into the straps. He pushed off again to float back to the small cubicle that served as the bathroom on board. Lifting his hand, he knocked softly on the smooth door. 

“Will? Hey, you okay?” 

John heard a groan, which was drowned out by the sound of the toilet flushing. It was loud, and John waited for it to stop before speaking again.

“Hey, I’ve got some anti-nausea for you out here. Might help. Will help a lot actually, trust me. I practically lived on the stuff on all three of my-- …” 

A deep growl interrupted John’s rambling speech. “No. ‘m f-f-fine.” Will snarled, his chattering teeth removing some of the venom behind his words. 

“Will, seriously. Let me help. It happens to the best of us and I’m the flight medic. It’s my job.” 

John tried hard not to roll his eyes. How stubborn could this guy be? He was only trying to help. 

“I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help.” Came the hissed reply, followed by the sound of more dry retching. 

John rolled his eyes skyward. 

“Clearly. Ok well, when you’re done with your… ritual…you can come find the bottle of Zofran. It might still be floating somewhere around the door, if you’re lucky.” 

Annoyed, John tossed the bottle up and watched as it spun around lazily, bobbing in mid-air. He couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. Just when he thought they were finally starting to hit it off, he shuts down again, won’t even let him do his job. Fine, John thought. He’s a grown man. He can help himself. And with that, he pulled himself back to the hatch and collected his bag, planning to unpack and settle in. He was already looking forward to raiding the kitchen and relaxing with a movie on his tablet. 

Molly and Greg had already claimed their rooms on the far end of the ship and were helping each other out of their suits when John returned from unpacking his few things. He was still in his suit and desperate to get out of it. He thought briefly of Will and wondered if he had managed to get his off yet. Probably. John wouldn’t be surprised if he was the first person who could Houdini out of it on their own.  

“You guys see Will yet?” 

Greg and Molly exchanged a glance. 

“No… we thought he’d just picked a room and holed up in it,” came Greg’s reply. He frowned, looking concerned. “Have you, John?” 

“Yeah, he wasn’t feeling so hot. Told me to get lost, though, so I dunno where he is now.” 

With a sigh, John turned his back towards Greg, indicating his need to be unzipped. Why did it feel like he was Will’s babysitter? He realized, too, that since Molly and Greg had taken the two rooms on this end, it meant his and Will’s rooms would be right next to each other on the opposite end of the HAB. John thought he might have gotten prematurely excited about this trip, when he was feeling all warm and fuzzy from their games and music on the shuttle. Now, the forty-five days loomed in front of him, most likely filled with huffing and snappish arguments with the galaxy’s biggest drama queen. He slid out of his suit and floated towards the kitchen, intent on eating his annoyance. 

A few minutes later, he had just settled into a cozy position in his small room, bag of root beer barrels in hand, when he heard someone clear their throat just outside his door. 

“Yeah?” He called, not bothering to move. His finger hovered over the play button on his tablet. No one answered, so he heaved a sigh and flipped his feet around so he could slide the door open. Will was just outside, visibly shaking and chalk-white, his feet hooked into one of the loops on the floor to give the illusion of standing upright.  

“John, I believe… I am in need… of assistance.” He barely managed to get the words out, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped forward. 

“Jesus, Will!” John yelped. Eerily, because of the lack of gravity, Will didn’t sink to the ground like people do on Earth when they faint, but merely floated bonelessly, his head listing to one side, but still upright. “Shit.” John maneuvered around to his back, jamming two fingers against his carotid artery in his neck to check his pulse before unzipping his suit. His pulse was strong, if a bit fast. He slid the suit off of him quickly, pushing it out of the way. John patted Will’s cheek and repeated his name. After only a few seconds, the other man’s eyelids fluttered open. John breathed a sigh of relief. He knew it was probably just from the sudden change in gravity, and the long day in flight, but he couldn’t help but admit how panicked he had felt when Will slipped away so quickly. His ire from earlier faded as he took in the sweat slicked skin and sunken cheeks before him. 

“Will. Hey, ya with me?” Will nodded, but his eyes were unfocused, drifting open and shut slowly. “Have you eaten anything today?” John thought back to their crew breakfast that morning. Will had been sitting across from him and had barely picked at his plate, before tossing it in the garbage and striding out of the room. And John didn’t think he had shared any of the snacks the rest of them had eaten on the shuttle. John sighed wearily as Will shook his head, looking down at the floor. He stiffened up suddenly, and glared at John. “I  _ said  _ I didn’t need _ … _ ” John braced himself for an argument, assuming Will was going to yell at him for interfering again, since he was  _ totally fine. _ John cut him off. 

“You’re not fine. You just passed out, while standing  _ at my door. _ So shut up, go sit in your room and let me bring you something to eat, you damn fool.” For a moment, Will looked like he was trying to think of a scathing retort, but then snapped his mouth shut and turned slowly. He drifted towards the other room in the small corridor that would be his and slid open the door. John could see him arrange his long limbs into a comfortable position and close his eyes. John breathed out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t put up a fight and went to find something for Will to eat. 

When he returned a few moments later, he thought Will might have fallen asleep. John crouched awkwardly for a moment with the bowl held in his hands, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. But Will’s eyes snapped open and he offered a tiny smile as he accepted the bowl of white rice and chicken. John held out a package with a straw that looked like a large juice box, too. At Will’s cocked eyebrow, he explained. “Ginger ale. Well, kind of. It’s not carbonated, but it’s not bad.” Will slid the straw into his mouth and sucked in a long drink, humming in the back of his throat. He licked his lips. “Tastes like my childhood.” 

Now that Will had some of his color back, John figured it was probably safe to retreat back to his own room and finally start the movie that had been interrupted earlier. He turned to leave, but Will caught his arm. His long fingers splayed over John’s wrist and when John looked back, he saw the same vulnerable look he had glimpsed only a few times before. This time, though, Will didn’t try to hide it, or arrange his face into the cold mask of indifference he usually wore. He simply gazed at John with wide eyes for a moment before clearing his throat. 

“John, um. That thing you did? Bringing me the Zofran, and dinner, and um… getting my suit off. Waking me up. That was um. Good. It was all good. So… thanks.” Will looked down, and John noticed the tips of his ear turning pink. Embarrassed? He had never heard him sound so flustered. John shifted and realized Will’s hand was still holding his wrist. Will must have noticed it too, because he snatched it away, as though he’d been burned. John shrugged. 

“No big deal. That’s what I do, I’m the medic. I’m here to make sure no one keels over.” 

Will’s head drooped a bit more and John frowned, feeling like he’d said the wrong thing.

“Ok.” Will’s voice was barely a whisper. He looked up at John from under impossibly long eyelashes, his expression guarded. “Thanks again.”

John nodded and floated back to his room. As he was sliding the door open, he glanced back over his shoulder. Will hadn’t moved, still staring at the spot on the floor that John had just left. Then, without looking up, he reached forward and shut his door with a snap. Heaving a deep sigh, John did the same and settled in finally for the night, exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket. He did not know what to make of Will Holmes, the galaxy’s biggest drama queen, but he found that he was curiously enticed by the mystery of him.   

  
  



	6. Astronaut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Can anybody hear me_  
>  Or am I talking to myself  
> My mind is running empty  
> In the search for someone else  
> Who doesn't look right through me  
> It's all just static in my head  
> Can anybody tell me why   
> I'm lonely like a satellite? 
> 
> Poor sad, lonely Will. Misunderstandings, bad dreams, space treadmills, and lots and lots of precooked, warmed-up astronaut food abound in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh I've got some nice, emo Simple Plan for this chapter. [ Astronaut ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-MgRkSh5Xk) It just *screams* Sad Scientist Will, dontcha think? 
> 
> Hopefully (!!!), the next few chapters will be faster coming than the last two. I've got some great stuff in store for you, lovely readers. xxx

 

Will awoke to the pleasant sound of John’s laugh filtering through the thin metal door of his living quarters. He blinked a few times to clear the grogginess of sleep from his brain, surprised that he had slept heavily enough to feel disoriented, and smiling slightly at the already-familiar sound of that low chuckle. He slid his hand down the panel of his bed until he found the release button, located just below his waist. He pushed it, feeling the weight of the blanket release, freeing him from the comfortable pressure that kept him lying in his bed, and not floating around his room while he slept. He rolled his head around as his pillow relaxed as well, and then froze, holding his breath, anticipating the debilitating rush of nausea and vertigo that washed over him every time he moved his head suddenly. But the terrible feeling never came. Frowning, Will pushed the blanket away and pulled his knees up to his chest, unfolding to a semi-standing position, floating next to his bed. He was shocked to discover that his head was no longer pounding, and he felt stronger than he had in days. He also felt hungry, which surprised him, as he had scarcely been able to force down the small amount of food that John had insisted on bringing him regularly, eating only enough to soften the scowl on John’s face as he studied Will’s even more dramatically thinning face. 

Will maneuvered over to the small set of drawers that were bolted into the wall and glanced at himself in the mirror. His skin had regained a bit of color, although it was still pale, especially compared to the golden shade of John’s skin. Will shook his head, unsure why his brain had even made that comparison. Perhaps he was still ill after all. But he felt fine, better than he had since the launch, five days ago. He was embarrassed that he had been so sick, even though he knew that most astronauts experienced space sickness, or Space Adaptation Syndrome, especially on their first flight. However, he was fairly certain none of the other members of the crew on the  _ Percival _ had been nearly as sick as he had been. He couldn’t be sure, since he’d been contained mostly to his small room for the last five days and had scarcely seen the rest of the crew, with the exception of John, who had stopped in regularly to check on him and bring him the little packs of food, already warmed. Mostly, he had slept and tried to stay as still as possible, since sudden movement exacerbated the vertiginous feeling. 

He scrubbed his hands down his face, attempting to circulate the blood better. His face was puffy and his eyes ached, but his stomach seemed settled enough to finally venture out. He checked his watch. It was just after 9 in the morning. He slid out of his boxers and t-shirt and wrinkled his nose. Even though changing into clean clothes daily wasn’t necessary on a closed spaceship, after five days of being sick, this set was starting to develop a bit of an odor. He flicked them away and reached for the pack of body wipes that were stuck to the wall near the mirror with a strip of velcro. The wipes were cool and felt wonderful on his sticky, warm skin. After pulling on a clean t-shirt, boxers, socks and grey track pants, he slid the door to his room open and stopped to listen for a moment. He could hear the low murmur of voices coming from the galley.  _ Good _ , he thought. All three of them would probably make a big deal about him emerging from his room. This way, he would at least have a few minutes to prepare first. He detoured to the bathroom, and unhooked his kit from the wall. The toothbrush felt wonderful in his mouth and he scrubbed until his gums started to bleed. He squeezed out a few drops of water from his water pouch and caught it in his mouth, swishing it around before spitting it out into the air and collecting it in a cup, which he overturned directly over the drainage hole in the sink. He pushed the button to release the suction and let out a heavy sigh. Even these simple activities had sapped his energy, and he could feel the dizziness returning. He closed his eyes and focused on taking several breaths, not too deep, just like John had taught him. Feeling mostly refreshed, he glanced at his reflection in mild disgust once more, before venturing out towards the main common room in the center of the ship. He was just about to drift around the corner of the galley wall, trying to decide which flavor of protein bar was least likely to upset his stomach, when he heard Greg say his name. Lifting his hand, he halted his movement, and paused to listen. 

“Is he feeling any better? It’s been five days…” 

Will heard John’s answering scoff and could picture the eye roll that surely accompanied it. 

“I have literally no idea. He looked better when I went in last night, but he’s barely eaten anything the whole time, and he’s already lost a ton of weight. And I mean, you know how he is. Hasn’t exactly been forthcoming.” Greg and Molly both made sympathetic noises. 

Will froze. Of course they all know  _ how he is _ . It’s a wonder they’ve managed to put up with him this long, even with the minimal interaction since the launch. And how  _ foolish _ had Will been; he’d actually begun to believe there was something more than simple professional concern motivating John’s regular visits. He had purposely kept quiet each time John had come in. For some reason, he didn’t want John to see the charismatic charade he put on for other people. John seemed… different and Will had found himself wanting to get to know him, and be known, for real. So he had stayed quiet, offering up minimal responses, trying desperately not to slip into the arrogant persona of Will Holmes, Astronaut Extraordinaire. Up here, with the three people he was starting to think of as  _ friends _ , he simply wanted to be Will. But of course, they weren’t interested in that. They were all annoyed with him, most likely exasperated that he was so weak to not be able to control a little nausea. As far as he knew, none of them had been too dizzy to even make it out of bed without vomiting or fainting. Pathetic. 

Suddenly, Will didn’t feel hungry anymore. He had wasted so much time,  _ so much time,  _ already. He needed to work on his experiments. Certainly, several would need to be restarted and maybe even scrapped altogether. Frustrated, he pushed off the wall and into the main room, eyes focused on the door that led to the labs. He was halfway through the large, open space when he heard Molly call his name. He stilled, not turning around. He could hear her hurrying to unbuckle the clasp that held her down in the chair to allow them to simulate sitting around a table normally. 

“Will!” She touched his shoulder gently, and he tried his hardest not to flinch away. Instead, he plastered on a smile -  _ wide, too wide, not so much teeth _ ! - and turned to face her. 

“Hi Molly. I’m feeling a lot better. Need to go catch up -- ” He gestured toward the door on the far end of the room - “lots of experiments waiting.” He flashed her another quick smile - genuine this time - and glided down the narrow passage to the lab, purposely not looking in the direction of the galley table, where he knew John and Greg were sitting, most likely looking surprised. They shouldn’t be surprised, he thought acidly. They know exactly  _ how I am _ .  

* * * * * * * * * * * 

Will spent several hours in the ship’s lab, slipping into a mostly familiar routine and gratefully pushing all other thoughts out of his head as he lost himself in the world of biochemistry. This was his realm and he was comfortable here. The plants and the gases didn’t care that he came off as prickly and arrogant. They didn’t mind that he was terrible at maintaining conversation with others; that he never remembered to ask how the other person was doing, or that he was awful at recalling the details of others’ lives. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; although truly, there had been very few people in his life that he did care to know anything about besides their professional contributions to his own work. For years, he had forced himself to get lost in the work because it was easy. It was easy to pretend, to smile and laugh for a few hours when it was necessary, but to retreat quickly to the cool solitude of his research, to the test tubes and greenhouse, to the plants and the insects, the gases and the chemicals. He was a scientist, and cold, hard facts were his language. He shuddered to think that he had almost lost sight of that, had almost fallen prey to his emotions. It must have been the space sickness making him weak, not just physically but emotionally too. He scoffed, but bit it off suddenly at the sound of the lab door sliding open. Straightening his spine, he pushed back his shoulders and narrowed his focus on the microscope in front of him. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t help but strain his ears in an attempt to decipher whose soft breaths were gliding ever closer. When something touched his back, he nearly jumped out of his skin, both of his socked feet slipping out of the straps on the floor. He sucked in a breath and turned to see John laughing, both hands held up in a defensive gesture. 

“Hey, hey! Sorry to spook ya!” John flashed him a grin, but it died on his lips at Will’s glare. Will tried to spin back around haughtily, but only managed to make his hair flutter as his body turned slowly, as though underwater.  _ Can’t even huff properly up here. Stupid.  _ He watched as John maneuvered over to a bank of capsules, and jammed his own socked feet into a set of straps, watched as his shoulders dropped in a sigh. Will decided he had done enough work for the day and left the lab unceremoniously. He would return later and finish. His stomach rolled unpleasantly as he made his way through the commons area and he rolled his eyes, remembering that he hadn’t actually eaten any breakfast that morning, caught up in his embarrassment after overhearing his crewmates talk about him so irritably. He moved to the cabinet that served as their food storage and selected a packet at random, jamming it in the food warmer without even bothering to read the label. He pulled a drink packet out of a different cabinet and popped the valve, taking a long drink. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he realized it was the ginger ale drink that John had brought him several times over the last few days, always grimacing as Will sipped at it and joking that they were saving all the ginger ale ones for him, since he was apparently the only one who could stand the flat, spicy-sweet taste. He forced the smile off his face and resumed his usual scowl. That felt better. He glanced around, wondering where Greg and Molly might be. Certainly, he wasn’t in any mood for conversation, the lighthearted feeling of that morning completely dissolved. From across the common room, he could hear someone in the workout room, pounding away on the treadmill. He remembered the schedule they had created to ensure they each fit in their 2-plus hours of exercise a day. Grateful for something solitary to do, he told himself he’d check the schedule as soon as he finished eating. 

When the food was done heating, he ripped open the package and grabbed a biodegradable fork from the pack clipped to the wall. He debated just taking his lunch back to his room, but he felt like he should probably see what he could do to help clean up the ship, since he had been out of commission for most of their first week aboard. He ate standing up, hooking his feet in straps once again and scooping the salisbury steak directly from the package to his mouth with the fork, pausing occasionally for sips from the drink pouch. When he was finished, he straightened up the galley and wiped down the table and cabinets. He caught a few miscellaneous items that had escaped their velcro trappings and stuck them back on, then pushed across the room and towards the door of the exercise room. His mouth threatened to twitch into a smile again as he remembered overhearing John and Molly’s laughter as they wrestled the schedule into submission; even something as simple as taping a paper to a wall proving challenging in the microgravity environment. He shook his head, schooling his features once again as he slid his finger down the page.  **Will: 2pm - 4:30pm,** the schedule read in someone’s tight, neat handwriting. He checked his watch. It was just after one, which gave him enough time to change and check his email. Tucking his head, he flipped over and headed towards his room. 

* * * * * * * * * *

The pounding whir of the treadmill was hypnotic and Will’s time in the exercise room passed quickly. He didn’t push himself, pausing frequently for breaks and to noisily slurp water from his pouch, but he was pleased that the nausea and dizziness stayed far away, despite all of the activity. After a few sets of weights, he slumped against the wall, muscles buzzing and sweat prickling his forehead. He shook his head briskly and watched, somewhat dazed, as the tiny droplets floated around his head. Taking another long drag on his water, he drifted towards the door. Just as he reached to open it, the panel slid away from his hand and Greg slipped in. Will visibly startled, making Greg chuckle. 

“Sorry, didn’t see ya there, Will! How are you feeling? You scared us half to death - we thought you were a goner!” Greg smiled brightly, but his eyes were serious. He gripped Will’s shoulder, eyes sweeping over his face in concern. Will nodded and let himself be studied. 

“Feeling a lot better. It was certainly unfortunate that I was out of commission for so long, but I’m back now. My apologies.” Greg gave his shoulder a squeeze, but the expression on his face was unreadable. He was quiet for a moment, before turning to start his workout. 

“Just… glad you’re back with us.” He tossed a smile over his shoulder as Will pushed through the door. 

* * * * * * * * * *

Will woke with a start, sweating and thrashing against the tightened blanket. He groped around desperately, looking for the switch to release it. Panting, he pushed away from the bed and grabbed his water pouch, squeezing a few drops into his hand and using them to rub across his face. His heart was pounding, a visceral reaction to the dream he just had.  _ Just a dream, just a dream _ , he chanted to himself, squeezing his shaking hands between his knees. He checked his watch and was surprised to see that it was after 6. After his workout, he had retreated to his room, overcome with exhaustion. Apparently, he had again fallen into a deep sleep, deep enough to dream this time. He shuddered as he remembered the realistic nightmare - he had been trapped in the HAB while the other three members of the crew had climbed back into  _ Percival  _ and disengaged the lock, blasting away with their rockets firing. In typical dream fashion, Will had screamed for them to come back, to help him, but no sound came out of his mouth. He was paralyzed with dream-fear and had only been able to watch as the shuttle had grown smaller and smaller in the infinite black. The last thing Will had been able to see was John’s face in the window, laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. 

Will scrubbed his hands down his face.  _ Just a dream.  _ Scowling, he ran his fingers through his hair and pulled out another wipe to clean the dried sweat from his forehead. Feeling marginally calmer, he realized he was hungry again. Will had no idea whether the crew ate all of their meals together, but since it was around the average dinner time on Earth, he hypothesized that meant the rest of them were likely to be hovering around the galley soon too. No matter, he would simply warm up his food and bring it back to his room. He’d gotten used to eating in here the past few days, and thought that he might just make it a habit during this trip. He sighed and slid the door open, nearly running into John as he came out of his own room across the hall. 

“Hey, you’re just in time. We were all about to grab a bite and start a movie.” John held up a pack of Red Vines. “I’m in charge of snacks.” 

Will opened his mouth to reply, but John had already swished past him down the hallway to the galley. He hesitated, considering turning back to his room, but his stomach rumbled again, so he sighed heavily and pushed forward, following John into the open room. 

Greg and Molly were already lounging comfortably in the commons when he entered. He blinked, still not used to the idea that “lounging comfortably” meant floating in midair. They both waved to him and continued flicking through the movie choices on the large flat screen attached to the far wall. “Gonna join us, Will?” Molly called, not taking her eyes off the screen as Greg scrolled rapidly through the thousands of choices. Will paused his thumbing through the packs of food and sensed that John, waiting near the food warmer, had stilled as well. To the casual observer, everything in their body language made it seem like they really did want Will to join them, but he knew that couldn’t be the case. He had heard their conversation this morning, when they didn’t know he could hear. He just couldn’t trust this act - this display of…  _ friendship? -  _ now that he knew the truth. They were all simply tolerating him. He shook his head sharply, plucking a packet at random again from the choices and pushing the drawer closed. He fiddled with the packet while he waited for John to be done with the warmer, desperate to escape back to the solitude of his room. He knew he needed to say something, to give them an excuse for not joining them.

“I…” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John watching him. His eyes looked kind, no hint of annoyance in them. Will blinked, losing his train of thought. He started again. “Thanks for the offer, but I have quite a bit of work to catch up on, since I missed so many days already. Think I’ll just retire early tonight.” Something flashed briefly in John’s gaze, but the food warmer beeped just then and he turned away before Will could get a proper look. He slid his own packet into the warmer and pushed a few buttons on the screen. He didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see that small hint of …  _ disappointment _ ? - he thought had just tinged John’s blue eyes. He felt John move away, towards the other two in the commons and pushed away the sudden emptiness he felt in his absence.  _ Foolish.  _ He drummed his fingers impatiently on the worktop and grabbed the packet as soon as the warmer dinged, burning his fingertips. He let the foil pack float while he grabbed a drink pouch and willed himself not to look over his shoulder as he pushed back through to the hallway. He could hear the movie starting, the soft sounds as each of the others shifted and made themselves comfortable. His chest ached for some annoying reason and he scowled as he made his way to his room. Just before sliding open his door, he risked one tiny glance back at the main room and startled when he looked directly into a pair of deep blue eyes, looking back at him from across the open space. Will could see John’s chest expand as he sucked in a quick breath, before turning his focus back to the movie. He turned and swept into his room, sliding the door shut quickly. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

Will groaned, shifting yet again in his bed, trying to shut his brain off enough to fall asleep. He had been dozing fitfully for hours. Sliding one arm out of the tight confines of his blanket, he checked his watch. 2:17am. He pursed his lips and blew out an irritated breath. If he was back home, he’d know exactly what to do to settle his churning thoughts. On nights like these, he always crept out onto his back balcony, headphones in his ears, and the sleek fiberglass of his electric violin smooth under his fingertips. He would let the melody rise out of the depths of his soul, flowing effortlessly through him until he was drained but finally calm. Up here, in the suffocating confines of this small room, he had no such release. Frustrated, he mashed the button at his side and kicked his blanket away, doing the equivalent of pacing in this anti-gravity atmosphere. He drifted to one side of his room, then kicked his legs and flipped over, gliding to the other end. He stopped when he reached the small stand where all of his electronics were plugged in, staring at his tablet. Snatching it up, he scrolled quickly to a specific app. A grin split his face as he started tapping away, feeling practically giddy, fingers tingling with anticipation, longing to feel the strings under them once again. An hour later, he hummed quietly to himself, already composing as he watched the 3D printer whiz and churn, the delicate instrument taking shape layer by layer beneath the needle. 

  
  



	7. Falling Backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and violins. You know the drill. But this time, with a space twist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from a line in Sleeping at Last's song [ Pluto ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4iflslc-D38)  
> Great song, wonderful lyrics for our boys. Seemed a bit odd to name a chapter "Pluto" in a fic about Mars, which is why I snagged that line instead. Plus, it's definitely got some "Forwards or Backwards" vibes to it. :) 
> 
>  
> 
> In this chapter, we learn a bit more about John's past trauma. This is not the BIG reveal (that's coming later), but it does tiptoe around a traumatic event involving a child. Take care of yourself- feel free to skip over the first paragraph (to the **) if you feel like it might be a difficult thing for you to read. I will include warnings in the chapter of the big reveal as well.

John pushed himself upright in bed with difficulty - the blanket was still tightened around him from the waist down, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t work the switch to release it. He wrenched his arms out of the blanket and pressed trembling fingertips to his forehead. It had been the same dream again, always the same. Surrounded by black, with a phone ringing somewhere, incessantly. And then -every time- the ringing abruptly stopped and was replaced with the sound of someone crying. Sometimes the crying was quiet, subdued. Other times, it was louder, pleading, screaming. It had been the former tonight - soft gasps and whimpers, breaking his heart, reliving the horror all over again. This was the first night of the flight he’d had the nightmare, but he’d known it would return as soon as his body adjusted to the physical rigor of the new demands placed on it. Wriggling free of the tight material around his legs, he floated to one side of the small room, and leaned his head against the cool metal wall. Flipping his legs around, he drifted back to the other side of the cramped space and found his duffel bag, shoved unceremoniously in the back of a drawer. Without even pulling it out, he fished around in the side pocket until his fingers brushed over the smooth plastic frame stuffed inside. He hesitated, unsure if this would make it worse, or bring him a small amount of comfort. He closed his eyes and pulled the oval free of the canvas, pushing the drawer shut with his foot. Drawing in a deep breath, he counted to ten before flipping the frame over. His chest ached to see his daughter again, even in two-dimensional form. A strangled sob slipped from his lips as he studied the photo, taken four years ago, at a Father-Daughter dance held at her school.  _ Mary _ . He whispered her name, tracing one thumb over the sweet face in the photo. Her head was turned, her face looking up at him, the biggest grin splitting her innocent features as he had slipped a corsage onto her slim wrist. She had been so excited about her new dress, and had twirled and twirled, loving the way the yellow satin had flared out from her hips when she did. John swiped at his eyes and flicked the moisture away, where it lingered between him and this concrete memory of his daughter. He studied it for a few more moments before sliding it into the pocket of his shorts. The ache in his chest flared intensely and the room suddenly seemed impossibly small. He pushed through the door, not able to stand the suffocating space a moment longer. 

* * * * * * * * * *

Will blinked up at the ceiling, grunting in frustration. He couldn’t sleep. For hours, he had been lying here, tossing and turning, afraid to close his eyes, but too exhausted to keep them open for long. It was pathetic. He was a grown man, yet he knew as soon as he did drift off, the nightmares were likely to return. They hadn’t been this bad in years, but every night for the last week, he had woken up at some point in a cold sweat, panting as he tried to catch his breath. The dreams had varied in content, but the feeling of utter panic and helplessness had been prominent in every one. Unsurprisingly, the dreams had had a recurring star; John Watson. It was infuriating how much of Will’s brain space was occupied with thoughts of John.  When they were in the same room, Will found himself sneaking glances, constantly tracking his whereabouts out of the corner of his eye. Inexplicably, John often appeared to be watching him too, although that could certainly be explained away for professional, medical, reasons. He made a mental note to see if John seemed to spend as much time following Molly and Greg with that steely gaze as well. 

Randomly throughout the day, Will was annoyed to discover himself thinking about John; about his blue eyes, the different ways that he laughed, the low rumble of his voice that could be  _ felt _ from any room on this ship. If they hadn’t crossed paths in a while, he found himself wondering what he could be doing, and holding himself back from wandering around to find him. On Wednesdays, their exercise time coincided and Will found that it was indeed a struggle to peel his eyes away from a sweat-soaked John as he ran on the treadmill, or lifted weights next to him. The air seemed especially charged on those days, sparkling with electricity that certainly had nothing to do with the lighting.  _ Frustrating _ . It was all so frustrating. He had no reason to believe that John felt anything for him but comradery based on their status as colleagues, especially after the conversation he had overheard. Yet, there was a definite softness to John’s eyes whenever he looked at Will that he could not explain. 

Will suddenly felt claustrophobic, trapped inside the stiff blanket. He slammed his palm into the release button on the side of the bed and slid out gracefully. He was sweating, his skin prickling unpleasantly, fingers itching for release, for the bite of the strings as they pressed into the soft flesh of his fingertips. Grasping the bottom hem of his t-shirt, he pulled it up and over his head and breathed a sigh of relief. He felt overwhelmed; too many sensations and feelings all at once. Hooking a finger under the waistband of his shorts, he slid those off too, trailing his palms up the soft skin on the inside of his thighs. He tipped his head back, brushing his fingertips up his torso, causing goosebumps to rise up on his oversensitized skin. He breathed in steadily through his nose, pushing his hands into his hair and massaging his scalp, shivering as a tingle zipped down his spine at the sensation. Ever since he was a child, he had been easily overwhelmed; an itchy tag inside his shirt used to be enough to send him into a full meltdown. As he’d gotten older, he learned to control and process the sensations better. He had also learned coping techniques, ways to override the unpleasant sensations with more pleasant ones. He sunk his hands deeper into his hair, tugging gently, grounding himself. After a few moments, he turned to slide open the door, intent on retreating to the greenhouse to play. He floated towards the corridor and glanced at John’s door out of habit. It was only once he felt a twitch between his legs that he realized he was still completely naked. Of course, he didn’t mind nudity, but he figured the others on board the ship might not appreciate stumbling upon his pale body drifting through the commons like a bony ghost should they happen to come out for a drink of water. Smiling a little at the thought, he pushed himself back into his room and scooped up his shorts, pulling them on swiftly as he moved back into the corridor. He was desperate now to get his hands on his violin; he could feel the melody bubbling up from somewhere deep inside and he hummed to himself as he moved silently through the darkened ship. Behind closed doors, someone sniffled in their sleep. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

John slid the door to the lab open as quietly as he could, closing it with a soft click and remaining there, forehead tilted against the cool steel while his racing heart settled into a more regular rhythm. The ragged sobs that he had swallowed down as he moved through the sleeping ship smoothed out, his breaths becoming longer and easier. He knew Molly’s room was just on the other side of the wall, but hoped he had been quiet enough as he floated through the common room so as not to disturb her. He glanced at his watch. It was just after 2 in the morning. Tomorrow would be another long day, and he knew there would probably be an email waiting for him from the medic back at headquarters with a firm reminder of the required sleep times while on board the ship. John knew from his previous trips that he truly did feel better if he slept during the mandatory 8 hours each night, but the idea of crawling back into the suffocating confines of his bed, the possibility of being visited by the haunting sound of the ringing telephone made him want to scream and bang his head where it rested against the metal door. Turning away from the temptation, John glanced over to where the ecopoeisis pods were being held, intent to pay them a visit, perhaps to work on organizing the backlogs that had been pushed aside since before the launch. But a sound halted his movements and he stilled, listening. There it was again – a quiet burst of melody coming from somewhere inside the greenhouse, the inflatable tunnel filled with plants and vegetables grown in hybrid Earth-Martian soil. 

John pushed through the frosted door that separated the greenhouse from the rest of the lab, drawing in a deep inhale of the humid, lightly fragranced air. This was the first time he had been in the small greenhouse since they had been on board and now he wondered why he had held off. It was a literal breath of fresh air, lush and verdant, when the rest of the ship was starting to feel stale and grey. The music was coming from the far end of the rounded tunnel, but the hanging leaves of a large fern draped languidly over the railing, long green fingers beckoning gently, blocked his view of the source. He knew the others had been working in here throughout the week, especially Will, and assumed that the music was coming from someone’s ipod that had been left on overnight. He drifted silently through the tunnel, trailing his hand through the delicate fronds of the fern, feather-light in his touch, unhurried as he made his way toward the beautiful music. It seemed to rise up from the very soil around him, elegant and melodic. Gliding forward, he touched the tip of his finger to the bright pink petal of a zinnia, quietly thrilled by its bold contrast and its ability to thrive, even so far from home. In this botanical haven, with the music drifting over him, he felt the tightness in his chest start to ease. A movement to his left caught his eye and he turned his head, expecting to see an errant leaf caught up in the swirl of air from the humidifier fan. Instead, he caught a glimpse of pale skin as it swished through the air. Curious, he pushed closer and his breath caught in his throat when he saw what had previously been hidden from his view; Will, tucked into a corner of the tunnel, hidden from view by the veil of greenery. His back was partially turned, yet John could see that his eyes were closed as he played, and the graceful movements of his arm as he coaxed long, emotive notes from the instrument were hypnotizing. Long fingers danced across taut strings and John could see the muscles in Will’s shoulders as they rippled, tensing and releasing while he swayed in time to the music. John floated in the middle of the aisle, knowing he had interrupted something sacred and personal, but unwilling to stop the hypnotic trance of Will’s movements with his own fumbling retreat. He held his breath, captivated by the tiny flickers of Will’s eyes underneath his translucent lids, letting the sensations of the composition wash over him, more poignant now that he understood it was coming directly from this enigmatic man. His own eyes drifted shut as the music pulled up waves of memories buried deep inside him; the warmth of a long-ago summer evening, free from even the trivial responsibilities of childhood, joy bubbling forth like water over smooth pebbles as he chased fireflies, the grass cool under the soles of his feet; the gurgling giggle of his sweet Mary as an infant, eyes bright and full of life; the thrill of his first, fiery launch, stomach dropping in adrenaline-fueled anticipation. The memories flooded his senses, tripping over each other. The music changed then, the lilting notes replaced with longer, lingering sounds, full of heartache, hidden pain. John felt tears spring to his eyes, but did not lift his hand to wipe them away, the memories continuing in cathartic release. Will held the last melancholic fermata until the sound was completely absorbed by his attentive audience, both human and botanical. John opened his eyes and studied Will. He was breathing heavily, his back heaving as he sucked in long breaths. His head was tipped back, exposing his long, smooth throat, and his eyes remained closed. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal and the most delicate smile danced across his features. He was stunning. 

“That was incredible” John breathed. He watched as a myriad of expressions flitted across the visible half of Will’s face before the younger man turned to John, eyes wide, lips pressed together in shock. John shook his head gently, blinking against the sheer amazement he felt, a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips. 

“Simply amazing. Breathtaking. I had no idea you could play.” 

Will’s mouth formed a perfect “oh” and he sucked in a breath, staring down at the greenhouse floor. John found he couldn’t take his eyes off of that mouth, unconsciously darting his tongue out to wet his own, suddenly dry, lips as his eyes roamed over the full bottom lip and perfect cupid’s bow. 

Blinking rapidly, Will ran his hand through his curls. “You weren’t…I didn’t know anyone…” He stuttered, a visible flush creeping up his cheeks. 

John frowned. He hadn’t meant to embarrass him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Um… couldn’t sleep, thought I’d just get some…” He drawled, gesturing lamely at their lush surroundings. “fresh air”. 

Will’s eyes flicked up to John’s and, seeing warm acceptance rather than the expected sarcasm, softened. 

“I couldn’t either” He admitted quietly, trailing one long finger down the sleek, black neck of his violin. “Sleep, I mean. Circadian rhythms are disrupted, possibly from the space travel or lingering effects of the sickness, but being in here helps. They…” He imitates John’s vague gesture to the plants with a tiny smile, “help. And playing has always helped me clear my head when I’m feeling overwhelmed.” He snapped his mouth shut, as if afraid he’d revealed too much, but John simply nodded. 

“Well it definitely worked for me. It was brilliant, truly. I’ve never heard anyone play like that. It was stunning, simply stunning.” He sounded like a broken record, but there didn’t seem to be any words in the English language to correctly describe what he had just seen and heard. The awe was evident in his voice and he winced. Will’s eyes locked on his and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. John wasn’t even sure he was breathing, lost in that tumultuous gaze.  _ Shit.  _ Those eyes were going to be the death of him. Drawing in a quick breath, he turned to leave, feeling as though he had intruded on a very private, intimate moment. He knew if he stayed any longer, he might not be able to help blurting out something embarrassing.

“John…” Will’s voice was hesitant. John turned around with what he hoped was an encouraging and open expression on his face. Inside, he was a hurricane; emotions and desires tumbling together in a sea of confusion. There was something so utterly…  _ sensual  _ about this man. He had never before met anyone who simultaneously infuriated him and fascinated him as much as Will Holmes. He realized he was holding his breath in anticipation of Will’s next words, and also realized that it could be absolutely  _ anything _ . The man was full of surprises. But Will said nothing, just continued to gaze in John’s direction. Then, blinking rapidly, he shrugged and turned to stash his violin in a hidden cupboard. 

John shook his head and let out a breath. 

“Goodnight, Will.” He lifted his hand and spun slowly towards the door. “And… thank you.” As he reached the door to the lab, he glanced back over his shoulder. Will was smiling, a genuine one that lit up his eyes and made him seem to glow from within. He ducked his head and gave a little wave and John pushed back into the lab, feeling light. Once back in his room, he barely made it into his bed before he fell fast asleep, recalling with vivid clarity the way Will’s entire face lit up when he smiled like a ray of sunshine, and vowing to do everything in his power to see him smile like that again.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Need a visual? I got you. ;-) 
> 
> [ Sherlock's violin ](https://goo.gl/images/hWjAEX) Sexxxxyyyyy. 
> 
> Need a visual of a hot, shirtless man playing a violin? OF COURSE WHO DOESN'T, ELL?!? [ Here ya go ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PnGq5sfznC4) Make sure to follow the Shirtless Violinist too. He's phenomenal. <3 
> 
> Space greenhouses are a real thing. See a picture [ here ](https://www.nasa.gov/feature/lunar-martian-greenhouses-designed-to-mimic-those-on-earth)
> 
> and finally, if you haven't seen @allsovacant's AMAZING art that she created for this chapter....oh please do yourself the favor and [ GO LOOK AT IT. ](https://twitter.com/elldotsee/status/1000719193367633920) <3 <3 <3


	8. Static Space Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John learns Will's cute little secret. They have coffee together (it is *so* not what you're picturing!), and they have a moment. :) Oh, and DAMMIT MOLLY!!! 
> 
> This chapter's song is [ Static Space Lover ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWbgYLlWJk8) by Foster the People. I had this song picked for this chapter way before I wrote it, and then once it was written I had to giggle at how PERFECTLY it fits. Seriously, go have a listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. This chapter FOUGHT ME. Hard. Hugest thanks to my incredible beta and good friend, ThornyPeach, for so many late nights of revisions and just full out screaming as I wrestled this damn thing into submission. And then she cheered me on when I sent it to her today. :-D The best. 
> 
> So, enjoy this labor of love ;-)

A million lifetimes of nightmares later, John found himself alone in the greenhouse. It had become his ritual when he woke gasping and shaking in the middle of the night to head directly there. This was the third night this week that he had felt the urge to leave the suffocating confines of his small room and retreat to the sanctuary of the brightly lit tube. He found that he had come to rely on the quiet intimacy of sharing this space with Will and his beautiful music. Will had an uncanny ability to be able to read John and coax his violin to perfectly match his mood and lift his spirits. But tonight, the greenhouse was empty when he pushed through the frosted door. No melody drifted through the ferns to beckon him, caressing him with its sweet melancholy. There were no glimpses of pale skin as it sliced through the humid air. The lush greenery seemed dimmer tonight, the bright splashes of color from the blooms paled. 

Since that first chance concert, he had nearly convinced himself that he came to the greenhouse because the  _ plants _ uplifted his spirits, and that the music was an added bonus. But it appeared that he was wrong. More and more, it was becoming clear that it was truly Will that was the draw here and that both surprised and delighted him. He floated limply in the center of the room, thinking about the way Will’s slender hips twisted as he played, the way the muscles in his back rippled as his arms moved in synchronized harmony. Will always played with his eyes closed in tight concentration, and John appreciated that time to study Will freely. He loved to watch the different expressions dance across his delicate features; pain, sorrow, elation. 

It didn’t take a genius to deduce that the reason John’s nightmares had returned with the force of a hurricane lately was because of his constant inner maelstrom. Despite his best efforts, he was falling hard for Will. Sure, he was sarcastic and held everyone at an arm’s length, but John felt like slowly, he was starting to peel back the layers to discover a softer side to Will. He thought that maybe all of the prickliness was just an act to cover up something deeper. John knew better than to pry, thanks to experience on the receiving end of such nosiness -  but John could see flashes of it in his eyes, could hear it in his music. John didn’t know what to make of this revelation of his own feelings; that he was falling for a man, and a colleague at that. He just prefered to push the thought out of his mind. Will was a professional, and even if John wanted to pursue something besides their growing friendship, he was certain Will wouldn’t be interested. 

Checking his watch, John realized it was earlier than their usual time, even as he scoffed at the idea that this had become  _ usual _ , purposely ignoring the way his stomach fluttered at the thought. God, even his  _ nightmares  _ were on a regular schedule. How dull could he be? With one last sweeping glance around the greenhouse (maybe he had somehow missed six feet of gorgeous perfection lurking among the hibiscus trees?), he decided to head back to his room, annoyed at his disappointment and disgusted with himself for being so predictable that Will had clearly gotten bored with his audience of one. It was true that they hadn’t ever spoken about this… arrangement but John realized he had been taking for granted that Will was always there when he arrived. In fact, John had assumed Will usually spent most of the nights there, judging by the shadows that regularly darkened the pale skin under his eyes. As the ship’s medic, John should probably encourage him to sleep more. 

Shaking his head, John pushed through the door to the commons, sighing heavily as he made his way back to his room.

As he entered the corridor, John’s thoughts were interrupted by a familiar beeping sound. He glanced at his watch – 1:07am – just as the door to Will’s room slid open. Will emerged, rubbing bleary eyes and looking deliciously sleep-rumpled. John’s heart leapt in his chest at the sight of him.

“Will” His whispered name felt salacious on John’s tongue, a stolen moment in the dark. 

Will startled, dropping his hands as he turned towards John. He squinted, moving closer. 

“Oh! John. You startled me. You- you’re early tonight. I think I must’ve hit the snooze button…” Will stammered, keeping his voice low as his eyes darted around the quiet ship. 

John’s exhausted brain tried to piece together what he was hearing, like a detective sorting clues. The beeping. Snooze button.  _ You’re early tonight _ . This didn’t make any sense. Surely, he wasn’t suggesting that he… John gaped at Will, who was watching him with a hint of concern. 

“Wait” John held up his hand, struggling to find the right words. “Did you…set your alarm?” He tried to keep his voice casual. 

“Yes.” Will blinked down at him, so close now that John could feel the breath puff out from between Will’s lips as he spoke. 

John ignored the way his stomach flipped at this simple statement. 

“Why?” It came out much breathier than John planned. His eyes scanned Will’s face, taking in the dark shadows under his eyes, the crease in his cheek from his pillow. Here, in the hallway, in the middle of the night, he couldn’t find a hint of the usual hard exterior, the haughtiness he wore like a shield from the rest of the world. He looked young, and vulnerable, and John had the ridiculous urge to wrap his arms around him and never let go. 

Will bit his lip, looking suddenly unsure. He gave a little shrug. 

“To play. For you. For the last eight days, your nightmare has occurred between the hours of 1am and 3am, which makes sense since you’re in bed by ten o’clock each night, within a deviation of five to seven minutes, and REM sleep occurs in cycles of 90 to 120 minutes. Your physiological responses indicate that music brings you stress relief quickly, and the humidity of the greenhouse has a soothing effect, akin to warm milk. Besides that, you enjoy watching me play.” A faint blush spread across Will’s cheeks. He glanced away. “And I’m finding that I enjoy it as well.” He caught John’s gaze then, one eyebrow raised. Did that answer his question? 

John exhaled slowly. 

“You…” He wasn’t even sure how to finish this sentence. Will had  _ set his alarm  _ to make sure he would be ready to play for John. John chastised himself for not questioning earlier how Will just happened to be in the greenhouse every night when John needed --. 

“For me?” 

The corner of Will’s mouth quirked up in a smile. He was enjoying watching John struggle through this, it seemed. But then the amusement vanished from his eyes, as he inched closer, his eyes locked on John’s. He nodded and for a moment, neither seemed to be breathing. 

“Of course, John. Of course.”  

“Oh.” John’s breath left him all at once. He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t think at all, not with Will this close to him, looking somehow intimidating and vulnerable all at once. John blinked and cleared his throat, glancing away from the intensity of the galaxy held within those eyes. The ship was eerily quiet; not even the hum of the machines could be heard from this corridor, as if they were the last two people left in all of space and time. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, feeling queasy with all of the emotions swirling in his gut. Even after all of Will’s explanation, he still couldn’t trust that what he was hearing wasn’t just his own wishful thinking. Part of him hoped,  _ oh how desperately he hoped _ , that – what? That Will felt the same way? What way was that exactly? John couldn’t even make sense of his own feelings. Could he even do this? What if he had it wrong? Of course he did – there was no way that someone like Will – brilliant, talented, gorgeous Will Holmes – could ever be interested in what John had to offer. He was a broken man; tired and grieving. He doubted he was even capable of love anymore.

It was too much. The corridor seemed to be shrinking. John felt hot all over, and couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He needed to think. It was too risky to handle this here, without enough sleep, and too many emotions still close to the surface from his nightmare. If he screwed up, and pushed Will away, he knew he wouldn’t get another chance. He couldn’t bear it. With his hand on the wall, he pushed himself backwards, towards his own door, away from the warmth radiating off of six feet of the most fascinating human he’d ever encountered. Will didn’t move, watching John drift away from him in the small space, his face expressionless. John reached for the handle of his door, shaking his head, swallowing the ever-rising swell of panic. The click of the latch echoed as he disappeared into his room, purposely not looking back at Will. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

Greg and Molly were huddled over a laptop screen in the commons when John came in the next morning. He made his way over to the kitchen and selected a packet to stick in the warmer. He had knocked on Will’s door when he got up, hoping to apologize for his erratic behavior the night before. Will hadn’t answered and John hoped it was because he was still sleeping. 

He wasn’t surprised to see that Will wasn’t in the commons room or the kitchen either. Though John knew Will preferred to be alone most of the day, there was a definite shift happening lately; his prickly edges seemed to be softening, and he was making an obvious effort at socialization. He occasionally joined the rest of the crew for meals in the kitchen now, engaging in deep conversations about quantum theories with Greg, and tossing a bit of light-hearted banter Molly’s way whenever she looked particularly stressed. John would sometimes find himself watching Will surreptitiously during these moments, unable to help the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth, startling whenever he glanced up to find himself caught in a curious gaze of  _ green-grey-blue. _

The timer dinged, yanking him from his thoughts, and he pulled out his breakfast, sleepily drifting over to where Greg and Molly were deep in discussion. 

“Morning. What’s up?” He said, settling in beside Molly and taking a big bite of his egg sandwich. 

Molly glanced over and gave him a tight smile. “Morning, John. We’re just getting word from Ground about a debris storm, just past the point of rendezvous with the MDV. They think we should turn up the thrusters to try and make it to the dock before the storm hits, so that we’ll be already descending below the debris level. But… ” Molly trailed off, pressing her lips together. It seemed there was more she wanted to say, but was hesitant. 

“But?” He prompted. “What do you think? You’re the pilot.”

Molly chewed on her thumbnail, deep in thought as she stared at the wall. After a few seconds of silence, she dropped her hand and drew in a breath.

“I think it’s Greg’s command.”

Greg looked back at her, stress evident in the deep creases of his forehead and the tense line of his shoulders. John knew Greg didn’t like having to make the tough decisions any more than anyone else but as Commander, it was his ultimate say. He also knew that this wasn’t Molly’s way of passing off the hard decision, but rather her desire not to overstep her ranking. John figured they must not be in any grave danger, then, since he believed Molly wouldn’t have any trouble speaking her mind if the stakes were high.

“I think…” Greg paused, choosing his words carefully and diplomatically. “I think we should listen to ground control. They have a wider view of the storm than we do, and they’re able to track the progression of the comet. There’s no guarantee that waiting would take us out of harm’s way. If anything, it might put us more directly in the path. There’s just no guarantee, and I’d rather take a chance and get there sooner, rather than stall and risk running out of fuel. The ship has an excellent shield, for exactly this purpose.” He folded his hands in his lap and drew in a steady breath, looking back at them with a neutral expression painted on his face. John glanced at Molly, but her expression hadn’t changed, her eyes still fixed on the wall.

“Of course” She answered, just a touch too flatly.

Three sets of eyes looked up as Will came blasting into the room just then, pausing to sweep his gaze over the entire room before darting off to the lab without a word. John watched him go, a little surprised that he hadn’t acknowledged them at all.

Greg and Molly exchanged a look and turned matching raised eyebrows to John.

“Oh, I don’t know! Your guess is as good as mine.” John threw his hands up in the air, and started to follow him into the lab, but stopped and changed directions, heading instead back to the kitchen. He threw away his breakfast sandwich wrapper and selected another pouch, this time a beverage one full of coffee. Truthfully, he hadn’t slept well last night, lying awake for a long time after retreating to his room, unable to shake the knowledge that Will had purposely gotten out of bed every night just to offer him comfort and company. John hadn’t meant to hurt Will’s feelings with his hesitancy. He had panicked, plain and simple. Based on the quick glimpse he had gotten, it seemed clear that Will also hadn’t slept much last night either. His hair was tangled, looking as if it had been caught in a blender, or maybe just twisted between those slender fingers for hours, a habit John noticed Will had when he was stressed. The usual circles under his eyes were a deeper purple and he was even paler than usual. They needed to talk. Sighing, John snagged a second coffee packet and popped it into the warmer with his own. He glanced over to where Greg and Molly were still huddled around the laptop in the commons, but they were too engrossed to notice him. There was absolutely nothing wrong with checking in on a friend, he told himself. Or bringing him coffee. That was totally professional.

Carrying both of the hot coffee packets, he made his way into the lab. Will was hunched over a microscope, his forehead creased in concentration.

“Hey, brought you some coffee. Looked like you might need a little pick-me-up.” John let go of one of the hot packets and let it drift towards Will. It bumped into the side of his head, but Will made no move to grab it, his eyes still pressed firmly against the instrument bolted to the table. Scooting in next to him, John slid his feet into a pair of straps to anchor himself while he opened the valve of his own coffee pouch.

“Ever had one of these? They’re kind of fun.” John smiled, but again, Will did not show any evidence that he had even heard him. His long fingers fiddled with the fine focus knob, twisting it back and forth in a way that wasn’t really conducive to actual science. It was maddening. Before he could think much about the implications, John’s hand darted out and rested on top of Will’s. Will allowed John to pry his slender fingers off of the instrument. They needed to talk and clearly, John would have to be the one to break the ice. He would apologize. Hopefully, Will would be understanding. John’s hand rested comfortably on top of Will’s on the table as he cleared his throat. Might as well jump in.

“Ok, look. I’m… I’m really bad at this, but last night… I’m really sorry.” John stared down at the shiny lab table. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Will go completely still. He decided to take that as encouragement that Will was actually listening, and continue. “I panicked. I was just… honestly shocked that you’d do something like that for me. Those nights, your music… it really helped. I had no idea you knew. That was… really good of you.” John snuck a peek over at Will again. He noticed Will’s face was tilted ever-so-slightly towards his and he could practically see his ears twitching as he listened intently. John sighed quietly. “So, thank you. I’m really no good at this sort of thing, but maybe we could try…” He trailed off because Will’s head had lifted and John was suddenly lost in a sea of prismatic irises looking at him so intensely it took John’s breath away. He opened his mouth, but no sounds came out. After a moment, Will opened his mouth as well, then pressed his lips together. His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Puzzled, John cocked his head and looked sideways at Will. His mouth twisted to one side as he studied Will’s expression. There was nothing to be gained from it - he was completely unreadable. His eyes continued to stare at John with the same intensity.

With an exasperated sigh, Will pulled his hand out from under John’s so he could stab one finger in the direction of the coffee pouches, which had floated away.

“Yes, John. I’d love some coffee. No, I’ve never had one. I wasn’t sure…” Will looked down at the table. He cleared his throat and straightened up. “This is all new to me. Show me?”

It took John a minute to untangle his own thoughts and Will’s words, to extract the parts that made sense and to determine that this was possibly Will’s way of accepting John’s apology. He huffed a funny little breath out of his nose and smiled down at his hands, folded together now in front of his stomach. Later, he would revisit the way that Will’s hand had felt beneath his palm, but for now, he had some coffee to drink.

“Ok, it takes a bit of practice, but basically you squeeze out a few drops” John demonstrated, squeezing the sides of the pouch slowly until a large bubble formed. With a flick of his wrist, he twisted the pouch to release the liquid into a perfect, quivering sphere. He moved his arm to create another bubble to the right of the first, and then a third, that one just a few inches in front of Will’s mouth. He could feel Will’s eyes on him the entire time, warming the side of his face as he pretended to concentrate on the task at hand.

“The air cools the coffee so it’s drinkable. So then, you just kind of … slurp them up.” John pursed his lips and leaned forward to capture the warm liquid. He swallowed, feeling his adam’s apple bounce in his throat, before turning to grin at Will. Will looked like he was fighting hard not to smile.  

“So, basically…” Will started, visibly pushing down the corners of his mouth where they made a valiant attempt to leap into a full-blown grin. “Basically, you just suck… the balls… into your mouth?” John couldn’t help it - he burst out laughing. Will met his eyes and finally lost the smirk as he too dissolved into giggles. It was several minutes before either of them could speak again, gasping for breath as they swiped at tears floating around their heads. John pointed at the droplets. “Don’t suck those.”

Will flashed a crooked smirk at him and slowly approached the floating blob of coffee nearest his mouth. He leaned forward, his elegant neck stretched long and his hands pressed into the lab table for balance. John could not take his eyes off of him and he was pretty sure Will knew it. Agonizingly slowly, Will’s tongue slid out of his mouth until it touched the liquid. His mouth parted and he closed his lips around the bubble, making an obscene slurping noise as he did. John didn’t know whether to laugh or… yep, he definitely needed to adjust himself. There was no way slurping coffee should have been sexy but as always, Will surprised John.

Grinning, John squeezed out another large bubble and, with a sassy wink, curled it into his mouth with his tongue, eyes trained on Will the entire time. Will’s eyes widened fractionally and he squirmed, sliding his feet out of the straps to snag his own pouch from where it had floated away. Turning back, he held the pouch in front of him like a weapon, and with a devilish little grin, sent a stream of coffee in an arc towards John. Never one to back down from an obvious challenge, John stretched his mouth open as wide as it would go and unhooked his own feet from the straps, pushing off of the floor as he floated over the table, gathering the now-cool liquid in his mouth. He stopped directly in front of Will and snapped his lips together with a pop, swallowing the entire mouthful in one gulp and grinning up at him.  

The room seemed to heat suddenly, the air sparking with electricity as their breaths mingled, neither of them willing to move away. For the second time in twelve hours, John found himself impossibly close to Will, but this time he was ready. He wouldn’t run away this time. His eyes traced the curve of Will’s mouth and watched as his teeth slid out to graze his bottom lip. John forced his eyes back up, but didn’t move away, trying not to gasp at the smoldering look in Will’s eyes. Will’s gaze flickered down to his mouth and back up, questioning. John nodded, letting his eyes slide closed as he ---

“Hey John, Will! We’ve got a video conference scheduled in ten with ground…”

At the last second, Will spun gracefully away from John, pretending to busy himself with a tray of instruments strapped to the wall. It was all John could do not to grunt in frustration at being interrupted, but he managed to flash a quick smile at Molly as she came into the room. Her eyes flicked between the two men, a tiny crease forming between her brows.

“Ten minutes. Got it. Thanks, Molly. Anything else?” Will’s tone was clipped, barely concealing the slight tremor in it. After a moment’s pause, John finally convinced his limbs to cooperate and moved towards the door, hoping Molly would follow. She did, reaching for the handle, but not without shooting a furtive glance at each of them. John arranged his features into what he hoped was an innocent expression and nodded.

“We’ll be there. Thank you for letting us know.” He smiled and waited as she slid through the door, closing it behind her.

John’s heart was pounding so loudly, he was certain Will must be able to hear it from across the room. He leaned his forehead on the door and tried to control his breathing. This was ridiculous. Here he was, nearly middle-aged, and acting like a middle schooler. After what felt like an eternity, he dared to turn around. Will was still facing the opposite wall, although he wasn’t moving a muscle. Glancing around to make sure Molly wasn’t lurking somewhere, John pushed across the lab until he was directly behind Will. He laid his hand between his shoulder blades and felt him jump under his touch. He leaned in and spoke low in his ear, slipping easily into his hometown drawl that he knew Will liked.

“I’d love to continue that… later.” He let his hand trail down Will’s back as he moved away, feeling a thrill at the noticeable shiver that he could feel under his palm. This was going to be the longest video conference on record, he was sure of it.

* * * * * * * * * * 

The email dinged into his inbox just as he was arriving back to his room after dinner. It had been an excruciatingly long day, after such an emotional morning. He and Will hadn’t found a single moment to sneak away alone. The video conference had stretched until lunchtime, and then they were each pulled aside for various debriefings and final checks with Molly and Greg or different teams from ground control. If John didn’t know any better, it seemed as though the universe was purposely trying to keep them apart, now that they had taken that first hesitant almost-step together. 

A second email alert sounded and John scowled. It was nearly 10pm - surely ground control could wait until morning. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and clean his face, before slipping out of his shorts and t-shirt. Carrying his tablet with him to the bed, he touched the screen and his face split into a wide grin as he read: 

Meet me in  _ Percival _ . 2am. If convenient. -WH

If inconvenient, come anyway. :) -WH

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eyebrow waggle* (that's for you, J...don't hurt yourself) 
> 
> NEXT UP... This fic is *finally* gonna earn its rating in the next chapter!! And guess what?? It's already written!! Gonna pretty it up and post it in the next few days. :) Two in one week! It's Christmas!!


	9. Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating in Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ZERO GRAVITY SPACE SEX!!! 
> 
> that's all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh I've been saving this song for a very special chapter and this one is it, indeed. <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Spiritualized's [ Ladies and Gentlemen, We are Floating in Space ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SamzCsFxl4)
> 
> It gives me goosebumps every time. Every.Damn.Time.

Will hovered nervously near the airlock to  _ Percival _ , doing the space version of pacing. His email had been purposely vague, but he hoped John would be intrigued enough to come anyway. He checked his watch - 2:03am. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he continued his jittery drifting back and forth across the hallway. If John didn’t come by 2:10, he told himself, he’d head back to bed. Maybe he’d give him until 2:15. What if John hadn’t seen the email? Or maybe Will had misread the entire situation today. Just as his thoughts started to spiral out of control, Will heard John’s door slide open and a moment later, he forgot his nerves as John came closer, a smile playing on his lips even while his eyebrows were raised in silent question. 

Will held out his hand and tried not to grin too foolishly when John slid his warm palm against his. 

“What’s this all about?” John whispered conspiratorially. Still smiling, Will pressed his finger to his lips and shook his head. He had no idea how he did it, but John seemed to make everything so much more fun. Just being around him made Will feel giddy and light-headed with anticipation. 

Disappointingly, Will had to let go of John’s hand to work the airlock, spinning it as quickly as possible and ushering John inside with his hand on his back. He felt a thrill again at the simple pleasure of being allowed to touch him now. 

Once inside the shuttle, Will momentarily felt a brief flash of panic; he couldn’t remember why exactly he’d chosen  _ Percival  _ for their first meeting, he only knew he wanted to selfishly have John alone for a little while. But as always, John eased his mind. He moved to the front of the dark shuttle, and looked over his shoulder to beckon Will forward as well. Snapping out of it, Will crossed the small space and positioned himself right near the front windshield. 

“Something I wanted to see.” He pointed one long finger to the dark sky, where several red streaks were visible from the comet debris. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He peeked over at John from the corner of his eye. John’s eyes were trained on his face, looking fascinated at what they saw there. 

“Gorgeous”. John’s smile lit up the night and Will found himself drawn to it, and to  _ him _ , this bright spot in an otherwise dark world. John’s fingers reached up and brushed along his jaw and Will shivered. His arm snaked around John’s shoulders and he pulled him close until their noses bumped. For a moment, they simply floated there, together, breathing quietly and memorizing every up-close detail of one another. Will thought he could probably stare at John for the rest of his life and never grow tired of it. He traced the fine lines around John’s mouth with the pad of his thumb and felt John’s arm slide around his waist, pulling him even closer. 

As though pulled by magnetic force, their lips drew together until they touched, softly at first, then growing in intensity. He couldn’t help the quiet moan that escaped him when John’s tongue slipped hesitantly between his lips. After a few moments, they broke apart, foreheads pressed together and chests heaving as they caught their breath. 

“John” Will whispered. He ached with the enormity of his feelings for this wonderful man. He felt John nod. 

“I feel the same.” John’s voice trembled. “Wow.” 

Will felt something wet tickle the side of his face. He pulled back quickly to scan John’s face and was startled to find his eyes rimmed in red. John sniffed, looking away as he swiped at his face. 

“Sorry. Sorry. Just a little… emotional. I’ll be okay.” He tried to pull away, but Will held him tightly. 

“You’re crying.” He knew it was obvious, but he was so surprised he couldn’t help stating the facts. It wasn’t the sight of John crying that shook him, but the idea that John’s feelings might mirror his own. 

John snorted a laugh. “Yeah. No shit, Sherlock.” He huffed and rubbed his eyes again, but he was smiling.

Will pulled away, gaping. “What did you just say?” 

John’s forehead furrowed. “Sorry. Just an old expression. Something my sister used to say. Ya know, like Sherlock Holmes? That detective guy? Forget it.” John was looking puzzled, and a bit embarrassed. Will wanted to rescue him from his fumbling apology, but he was now laughing too hard. He swiped at the tears flying off of his face and manage to gasp out, 

“I  _ know _ who he is! I was  _ named  _ after him!” 

John continued to stare at him with his mouth wide open. Will had to explain before John thought he’d lost his mind for good. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed the rest of his giggles. 

“My mom was a big fan. Had all of the original books, traveled to London to visit the museum, the author’s grave, everything. She always loved that kind of stuff - puzzles and brain games. I was born right at the height of a new surge of popularity for the good detective; the BBC did a show in the early two thousands and she was such a fangirl that she just...named me after the main character. William Sherlock Scott Holmes. That’s me. Hello.” He waved in a mock greeting, still smiling at the look of complete shock on John’s face. 

After a beat, John burst out laughing. “You absolutely mad, brilliant man. Of  _ course _ you’re named after the most famous detective in all of history.” He grabbed Will’s face and kissed him soundly. “Why on Earth wouldn’t you be??” 

Will tucked his head against John’s neck and hugged him close. For a long time, they simply floated together, watching the occasional flashes of light from the meteors trailing behind the long-gone comet. Will thought he could probably stay exactly like this forever. He felt so light, so happy, he thought he might burst. 

After a while, he was definitely feeling sleepy, curled up against John’s warmth. 

“Is it always like this, John?” He mumbled into John’s soft t-shirt. John shifted to look down at him, and Will could feel the muscles of his chest move. Delicious.

“Is what always like this?” John’s voice was low, rumbling against Will’s cheek. 

Will looked up at him and gave him a quick kiss before answering. 

“This.” He waved his hand vaguely. “I don’t know. Relationships? Is that what this is?” John hummed and shifted again. His fingers found their way into Will’s hair and started stroking gently through his curls. Will bit his lip to stop himself from moaning. 

“Wanted to do this since the second I met you” John murmured against his temple. “S’good?” 

Will nodded and pushed his head into John’s palm. John was quiet for so long that Will would’ve thought he had fallen asleep, if not for the hypnotic movement of his fingers. Finally, he seemed to have decided on what he wanted to say and he cleared his throat softly.

“In my experience, it’s usually like this at the beginning. Before you really get to know each others’ not-so-great qualities, or before anything serious happens to challenge your relationship. But I think… I think, this feels different. Maybe I’m just feeling really optimistic right now, or maybe it’s because this is all new to me, being with another man, but I feel like this… this might be special. And I’d love for this to be a relationship. I... yeah. I’d really like that.” He pressed his cheek against the top of Will’s head when he finished speaking and Will listened to him pull in a shaky breath. “But surely this isn’t a first for the great William Sherlock Scott Holmes?” John nudged him to let him know he was kidding. 

The lump in Will’s throat was making it hard to breathe. If this is what it was always like to be with another person; sharing thoughts and breaths, touching, feeling so intensely, he had definitely missed out. He felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all, but for once it didn’t make him want to scream. If anything, he felt compelled to fling himself into this fully, never looking back. He swallowed noisily and blinked away the tears threatening to spring up. 

“Yes,  _ John Watson,  _ as I’m sure it is so hard to believe, with  _ all the friends I have _ , you are the first.” 

Sure, he’d had some flings. He’d gone on dates, kissed, he’d even had sex, experimented with different genders. But it had always been casual. At the first hint of something more serious, he had panicked and fled. Not that it usually even got that far. Most people were put off by his cold, calculating brain that could only be turned off for so long.  Without stimulation, his mind was like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces, trapped on the launchpad. 

John, he found, was immensely stimulating. In every sense. 

He didn’t realize he had spoken this thought aloud until he felt John shaking with laughter beneath him. He twisted to look up at him again, unable to help the smile that crept up his face. Christ. It had been years since he had smiled this much. And it felt so natural with John, not forced at all. He sighed happily and settled back against John’s chest, nudging his chin with his head until he felt John’s fingers slide back into his hair. He closed his eyes and floated peacefully. 

* * * * * * * * * *

John could not remember being this blissfully happy. He felt like a teenager. Well, not like himself as a teenager because that had been awkward and moody, but like the lovestruck teenagers in those awful made-for-tv movies. The last few days had passed in a idyllic blur; they were careful not to be too mushy around Molly and Greg, but John had a feeling at least Molly was starting to suspect something. More than once, he had noticed her staring openly at either him or Will, most likely questioning the huge grins neither of them could seem to tone down. The nights had been wonderful too. They alternated between the greenhouse - Will still played for John, but now there were several breaks built in for kissing - and  _ Percival _ . They were drawing steadily closer to the meteor belt and the view was breathtaking. The storm was still far enough away that they would most likely reach the rendezvous point and complete their descent without a hitch. There had been several briefings already, however, on the danger once they reached Mars surface. All of their ground work was halted for the first few days, until the storm passed, since the meteorites could be quite large and dangerous, especially in the low gravity atmosphere. Those nights in  _ Percival _ were spent lazily floating, wrapped in each others’ arms, kissing and talking, or just breathing quietly together. 

Today was already Wednesday and if all went well, they would be preparing for their rendezvous with the descent vehicle in just over 24 hours. John finished his last bite of lunch and slid his tablet back into the drawer next to his bed. He had eaten lunch in his room today to try and catch up on a few emails. He was scheduled for his exercise time in just a few minutes, and since it was Wednesday, he’d be sharing the gym with Will. He smiled, already daydreaming about watching those beautiful long limbs, muscles stretched taut as Will did his reps. Unconsciously, he rubbed his lower back while moving to the door. It had been bothering him for several days, no doubt due to muscle loss from disuse. He was really looking forward to  _ walking _ again once they landed on Mars, even if it would be in much lower gravity than Earth. 

Will was already in the gym when John arrived and he made his way to the elliptical machine. Even strapped to a complicated system of straps and pulleys, designed to work several muscle groups at once, Will looked completely comfortable. He winked as John climbed onto his own machine and began pedaling. Rock music pounded through the speakers, no doubt from Will’s iPod. John fell into a steady rhythm, enjoying the feeling of getting his body to work up a sweat. He’d kill to go for a real run right now, but this would have to do. Periodically, he snuck a peek at Will, suspended from the ceiling as he exercised, all of the muscles in his arms sleek and taut under his slick skin. Will must have felt John’s eyes on him, because he suddenly tipped his head back and grinned. John blew a kiss to him, feeling silly and -- he sucked in a breath as his back seized. His hands gripped the handrests and he tried to breathe slowly. It was just a muscle cramp, exacerbated by slight dehydration (forgot his water - shit). He tried to straighten up, but the movement made the pain worse. He gritted his teeth as he tried to unclip his feet from the pedals, but a tiny whimper slipped past his lips. That was all it took for Will’s head to snap around. His eyes met John’s and he was off of his own machine and unclipping John from the elliptical in what seemed like one quick motion. 

He pulled John away from the machine, tapping his iPod with one finger to stop the music. John hunched miserably, sucking in tiny breaths in an effort not to move too much. 

He could feel Will’s eyes raking over him, trying to figure out the source of the pain. A few drops of perspiration lingered on Will’s forehead and John had the sudden desire to lick them off. The thought made him giggle wildly, but it quickly turned into a groan as the movement sent another spasm of pain through his back. Will’s face was taut with concern and he ghosted his large hand over John from shoulder to hip. 

“What is it? Cramp? Tell me where.” His voice was gentle but firm. 

“Lower back, left quadrant” John grunted. 

He hissed as Will’s bony fingers pressed experimentally into the tight muscle. With his hands gripping John’s hips, Will guided him to the wall and slipped his feet into straps on the floor. Then, gently, he pulled John’s arms up until his palms were flat against the wall. He positioned himself behind John and braced his legs so he could use his full weight. Massages were terribly tricky in zero-gravity, but somehow Will made it look effortless. His elegant fingers probed and stroked, gently softening the spasming muscle. John’s head dropped forward in relief and he moaned quietly. He felt Will stiffen and he wiggled against Will’s hands to encourage him to keep going. 

“No, no. Don’t stop!” He peeked back over his shoulder at Will with a teasing smile, but froze when he saw the look on his face. 

“Err… John.” He bumped John’s hips with his own, and John could feel how hard he was, even through the layers of fabric separating them. John stilled, suddenly aware of his own very hard cock throbbing between his legs. 

“Oh” He whispered. 

“Mmm. Yes. Ohhh.” Will’s voice deepened and he rubbed against John’s backside again. John arched his back and Will kissed behind his ear. 

His warm hand rubbed one more gentle circle on John’s back before he moved away, leaving John feeling very cold and alone, pressed up against the wall. He turned around and their eyes met. 

“Later?” Will rumbled, with a barely-concealed shiver. John bit his lip and nodded.  _ God. _

“My room?” John matched the pitch of his voice to Will’s. Will nodded and mirrored John, pulling his lip between his teeth. 

“This sucks” John heaved a sigh, and tried to think about something,  _ anything _ to take his mind off of the fact that he just propositioned another man to come to bed with him later. A very sexy, very  _ turned on _ man who was just a few feet away. 

Will crossed the room to climb back onto his machine again, pausing as he passed John. He dipped his head and whispered in his ear, 

“ _ Someone _ will suck later. If you’re lucky, it just might be me.” 

* * * * * * * * * *

Will had barely slid the door closed before John was pressed against him, kissing him hard and frantically. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his hands worked underneath Will’s t-shirt, pulling up the bottom hem and caressing slowly up his sides. 

“Mmm...John! Yes...” He panted, immediately hard and  _ wanting _ . Oh my god, did he want. He pulled away just long enough for John to slip his shirt over his head. 

John’s mouth found his neck and worked his way down, planting open-mouthed kisses down first one side, then the other, whispering his name like an erotic chant. 

“Will. Oh  _ god _ , Will. I want this so bad. I want  _ you. _ ” John’s tongue traced his collarbone and dipped into his suprasternal notch, licking and tasting. His fingers danced lightly over his skin, just past the point of tickling, raising goosebumps all over. John moved down, hesitating over one pale pink nipple, exhaling his warm breath softly before tugging it into his mouth and sucking gently. Will’s head fell back and he moaned at the jolt that ran straight to his groin. John planted a sweet kiss on his chest and smiled up at him. 

“You like that, hmm?”

Sex in the past had never been like this; teasing, sweet, loving. In the past, it had always been rushed, usually opportunistic and the result of too much alcohol, not based on any sort of feelings. Will could feel John’s smile against his skin as he moved to the other nipple, licking and blowing across it until it hardened into a little bump. John continued moving south, trailing his lips and fingers through the fine hair on his chest and stomach. Will had never been particularly fond of his own body, but watching John kiss every inch of him with such fondness, almost reverence, made him feel sexy and desired for the first time in his life. John traced the waistband of his shorts with the tip of one index finger, dipping it inside directly in the middle, just shy of touching the head of his penis where it poked out of his boxers, hard and throbbing. 

“I’ll take care of that, don’t you worry” John’s whispered promise in his ear shot straight through him and he groaned, flexing his hips. 

“I think -- ahhhh” His thought was cut off when John’s hand pressed gently into the front of his shorts. 

“Yes, love?” John’s voice was teasing, but his hand was anything but, rubbing firm circles now. 

With difficulty, Will tried to recall his train of thought. 

“Mmmm… I think…  _ ohhh… _ I  _ think _ … I promised you… something.” He was panting now, as John slid his shorts and boxers off in one swift move. He wasn’t going to last long at this rate. 

As though reading his mind, John suddenly moved away and Will grunted his frustration. John grinned. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you hanging. Just wanted to even the playing field.” John made to remove his own shorts, but Will held up a hand. 

“No, let me. Please.” He followed John to the center of the room, running his hands gently down John’s chest, loving the way the soft hair felt as it tickled his palms. Will peeked up to watch John’s face as he planted tiny kisses in a neat line down the middle of his strong chest and stomach, pausing briefly to hook his fingers in the waistband of his shorts, but not yet pulling them down. He mouthed at John’s cock through the fabric of the shorts, smiling as John moaned in response. 

“Oh fuck, Will.” His eyes slid closed and he twisted his hands into Will’s hair, tugging gently. Will pulled John’s shorts down only a few inches, revealing just the tip of his very hard penis, deep red, nearly purple. The sight of it made his mouth water. Though he had been with both men and women, sex with women had always paled in comparison to the pleasure he found with another man. He much preferred the strength, the power, the hard planes of a man’s body, the slick glide of another cock over the wet mystery of a woman. He traced the edge of John’s glans with the tip of his tongue, flicking at his frenulum. John hissed and thrust gently, encouraging. His fingers tightened in Will’s hair. It had been years since he had had another man’s penis in his mouth, and he planned to enjoy it. With fingers trembling in anticipation, he pulled John’s shorts off the rest of the way and let them float away. 

“No underwear, John? Naughty…” He glanced up at John with a teasing wink, feeling lightheaded with happiness. John’s answering grin made his heart swell and Will tucked his chin against his chest to hide the blush he could feel creeping up his face. He circled the base of John’s perfect cock with his thumb and forefinger, sliding slowly up the length, barely brushing against the silky, hot skin. The tips of his other fingers trailed along teasingly. When he reached the top, he squeezed gently and then slipped his mouth over just the head, swirling his tongue back and forth across the slit. He wanted to make this last, keep John just on the edge, close without causing discomfort. John was breathing heavily, moans and gasps punctuating each breath as Will took him in deeper. John’s legs were tucked up, and Will reached his arms around to hold him steady. His hand stroked down one cheek, fingers trailing lightly along the cleft. He felt John shiver and he squeezed a palmful of muscular ass. Turning his attention back to John’s penis resting loosely in his mouth, he flattened his tongue against the underside and dragged it up slowly, curling it around the top and sucking lightly. He slid his mouth back down, taking as much as he could, relaxing his jaw and throat. John let out a low, guttural groan and his fingers clenched in Will’s hair, almost painfully. Will’s cock twitched and he felt a drop of precome dribble out. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, once, twice, before he felt the hot liquid pulse through John’s cock and hit the back of his throat in spurts. He swallowed quickly, humming at the taste- clean and sharp, not unpleasant at all. Intimate. John shuddered through the end of his orgasm and his hands fell limply away from Will’s hair. 

He was floating bonelessly, eyes closed and a blissful smile drifting lazily across his handsome features. Will wiped his mouth and kicked his legs in the air to get to the right height to kiss John. He pulled John flush against him, loving how warm and pliant he was post-orgasm. At the moment, Will didn’t even mind that he hadn’t come yet; he was content to hold John just like this for as long as he needed. He kissed John softly on the mouth. 

After a few moments, John came back to himself. He opened his eyes, and kissed Will on each cheek. Licking his lips, he let his eyes wander hungrily down Will’s nude torso. 

“Your turn.” 

Will’s erection had flagged slightly during their cuddle, but it stood at full attention now. He watched as John licked a slow stripe on his own palm, then reaching down, grasped Will’s cock. He stroked softly at first, then increased the speed, in response to Will’s quickening breaths. 

Will closed his eyes, lost in the swirl of sensation as John kissed him in perfect rhythm with his stroking. Their kiss deepened and Will moaned into John’s mouth, thrusting his hips against John’s hand to increase the friction. He was close already. 

John’s hand and mouth left his and Will bit his lip in anticipation. He kept his eyes closed, and after only a brief second, felt the hot embrace of John’s mouth wrap around his cock, nearly from base to tip. He gasped and forced his hips from bucking into the wet heat. John slid up the length, swirling his tongue around the head before swallowing him down again, tongue flat against the underside. 

“Not long. Mmm. Right there. Oh!  _ Yessss!”  _ His orgasm ripped through him, wave after wave of pleasure slamming into him as he twitched and stiffened. His eyes rolled back in his head and he could feel his toes curl. It was quite a different experience than on Earth, orgasming while suspended in midair. John slipped gently off, swallowing discreetly and kissing the tip before sliding back up to plant a kiss on Will’s lax mouth. Will was breathing hard and let himself be wrapped into a hug, nuzzling into John’s neck. He smelled faintly of sweat and underneath, Will could detect something wholly John. 

John stiffened suddenly, his head cocked to the side. 

“Did you hear that?” 

Will’s eyes had drifted closed, content and warm against John’s skin. 

“Mmmm?” 

“It sounded like --” 

Will’s head snapped up. He had definitely heard it that time. Metallic, sharp; it sounded like something had hit the ship. He met John’s eyes and without a word, they both grabbed their shorts and t-shirts from where they were floating around the room. It would’ve been funny, this swirl of clothing that screamed “sex happened here” if the situation outside the room wasn’t so potentially serious. 

Will let John slide the door open and exit first, on the rare chance that Greg or Molly were in the commons. After a moment, he followed, sliding the door shut as quietly as possible. John was waiting near the bathroom, stock still, listening. He motioned to Will. Will drifted over, listening too. 

A few moments passed in silence. Will turned and waved to John to follow, headed toward  _ Percival.  _ Turning the airlock, he tilted his head and whispered to John, “ _ Percival’s _ windows. Maybe we can see what that was.” John nodded his agreement, eyes still roving over the walls and ceiling of the ship as though he could see any potential damage from the inside.

Once inside  _ Percival _ , they both breathed a sigh of relief. Will reached for John’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his knuckles and tugging until they were face to face. John’s eyes closed and he tipped his forehead against Will’s, breathing in deeply through his nose. Will copied him, holding the breath for three counts before releasing it. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, after all the emotions and excitement of the last hour, but it felt good to just breathe. Kissing softly, they turned in unison to watch out of the window. A few meteors streaked by, small ones, barely larger than a baseball. They were close to the belt now; much closer it seemed, than Will had expected. He frowned and turned his head to look at John. John’s mouth was turned down in a frown too, deep lines bracketing his mouth. Will fought the urge to kiss them. They both flinched when a large chunk bounced off the windshield and their eyes met. 

_ “Shit.”  _ John cursed. “We have to wake Greg and Molly.” Will nodded and followed him back to the corridor, still holding hands. John squeezed his hand once before releasing it. Together, they pushed through the corridor to alert their commander and pilot of what they’d seen.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're a nerd and did the math (oh I absolutely would have too), you may have noticed I took a tiny (tiny!) liberty with the date of the BBC's TV revival of our favorite detective. Will is 31 in this fic, which means he was born in 2004, 5 years before Sherlock was actually aired. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> I PLEAD ARTISTIC LICENSE!


	10. Last Man in Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew navigates their way through the rest of the meteor shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit nervous about posting this chapter. I wrestled with it quite a bit, hoping to get the *feeling* just right. And I did a bit of whumping here. Agh. It was a rough one, but alas. It is out in the world now. Go forth, my fledgling story and be READ!
> 
> * * * * * 
> 
> I had an entirely different song chosen for this chapter, until just moments before posting and then I had a small crisis of faith (in the...entire story- JFC) based on one single lyrics from that blasted song.....
> 
> Luckily my amazing beta and friend ThornyPeach is used to these dramatic outbursts from me and talked me down. 
> 
> And then I found [ THIS SONG. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cG8_oFJkkuk) and the whole world made sense again. (see? drama queeeeeen)
> 
> * * * * * 
> 
> I am blown away by the response this story is getting and am so grateful to all of you for liking, commenting, sharing, rec'ing. Thank you for loving these spacebois with me. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Oh! And the name of the song (in case you don't want to watch the video/want to download it on your own) is Last Man in Space by Violet Sedan Chair.

It turned out that Will and John needn’t have worried about waking the other two. By the time John made it through the corridor to the commons room, Molly was coming out of the bathroom, looking bleary-eyed as she tied back her long hair. Greg was already in the commons room, attempting to connect to ground control. Will had snuck back to his room, and came out a few moments later, yawning and looking for all the world like he really had just woken up. John was impressed. 

Molly met John’s eyes as he made his way over to where Greg was waiting to project the video call onto the wall. Molly’s brown eyes were bright, worry creasing her forehead. Greg gave John and Will a tight smile as they gathered around the couch, too jittery to sit. 

John felt his eyebrows raise when Myc himself answered the video call. Even though it was the middle of the night, he was impeccable as always in a dark blue suit and patterned tie, not a hair out of place, though John did notice his eyes were bloodshot, exhaustion tugging at the corners.   

“Evening, crew. I’m not going to mince words. It looks like you’re through about 75% of the storm. The shields are holding, and it’s probably going to be a bumpy ride, but I want all boosters fired. We need you to get to the MDV and down to firm ground as fast as possible.” His grey eyes flicked over Will and John and settled on Molly. “Affirmative, Ms. Hooper?” 

Molly’s jaw tightened and John could see the steely glint in her eyes when she raised them to look directly into the camera. “Affirmative.” 

“Good. Captain Lestrade can take directives from here. I have all hands on deck here at ground. Objective number one is a safe landing. We can figure out details after that.” 

With that, he abruptly ended the call. 

The four astronauts exchanged a look. 

Greg rubbed his hands together grimly and sucked in a breath through his nose. 

“Alright, you heard him. We need to get to the MDV and down to soil as soon as possible. Go and grab your suits. We all need to be in  _ Percival  _ in ten.”

John followed Will to the storage closet that housed their suits. Molly and Greg’s were at the far end of the ship in an identical closet. Working quickly, they collected all the pieces needed for the impending descent; one piece spacesuits, helmets, gloves. Just before they turned to head back to the commons room, their eyes met briefly, the moment laden with so many things unspoken. There wasn’t time now, but John hoped desperately that there would be soon. Once they landed and settled into base, they would have plenty of time to talk. John reached out and stroked his thumb across Will’s cheek, just once, before dropping his hand. It was a promise, a declaration. Will flashed him a tight smile and they both turned and headed back to the commons room to meet the rest of the crew. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

The storm had quieted since the video call with ground control. Only a few small pieces of debris had bounced off the windshield as Molly expertly maneuvered the shuttle. Under her steady hand, they were sliding into the MDV within the hour. As she locked the ship into place, Greg moved to the airlock, spinning it as he called directions over his shoulder. 

“Will, John, you two stay in here and shut her down. We’ll detach as soon as you’re finished.  Molly and I are going to go ready the MDV. Hoping to start descent within twenty minutes.” 

John nodded his affirmation, already starting to shut down the systems on the shuttle as Molly and Greg slid out of the airlock door. Next to him, Will was working rapidly too, although John could see the tension in his body had lessened. It now seemed like most of the danger had passed them by, but John wasn’t ready to breathe a sigh of relief until his feet were firmly planted on solid ground. The sooner they could all get into the MDV, the faster they could get down onto the surface. John was surprised to realize that underneath all of the adrenaline from the night, and the thrilling newness of the budding relationship with Will, he was still quite excited for this once-in-a-lifetime-trip. Within a few hours, he would actually be touching Mars soil. With Will.  _ With Will.  _ His heart gave a little flip at that thought and he snuck a glance over to find Will already watching him, a tiny smile playing around those full, luscious lips. John gave himself a little shake and finished shutting down the system with one final tap to the screen. He leveled one more glance around the shuttle, then held out his hand for Will. 

“Shall we, m’darling?” He tugged Will towards him with a careful smile, kissing him on the cheek. 

“After you, of course” Will smiled back, gesturing towards the round passage where the airlock would soon be locked into place. John pulled himself through it and paused to wait for Will. When his long legs had cleared the entrance, they slammed the airlock shut together and spun it tightly. 

A quick look towards the far end of the HAB showed the opposite airlock shut as well. John squinted at his watch in the dim light of the corridor. It had been just about fifteen minutes since Molly and Greg had left the  _ Percival. _ That left he and Will just enough time to grab their belongings from their rooms and hustle to the MDV. His stomach flipped nervously, a sudden spike of adrenaline making him feel momentarily nauseous. He swallowed, calming his nerves and silently scolding himself. They had made it to the rendezvous point; all that was left to do was land. They’d all be able to relax and joke about this in a couple hours. What a great story it would make for the next wave of terraformers. He was tired, and more than ready to climb into a nice, warm bed. 

With a brief glance, Will and John parted ways, each ducking quickly into their respective bedrooms. John crossed the room quickly, pulling out his duffel bag. His hand went immediately to the small outer pocket, feeling for the smooth plastic oval. He pulled it out and gave his daughter a quick kiss, then set about collecting his few belongings, stuffing them in haphazardly and zipping it up. Crossing to the wall shelf, he grabbed his tablet and ipod and slid them in as well. He grabbed the handles of the duffel and tossed a final glance over his shoulder at the room before hustling back into the corridor. Will met him outside his door and they turned in unison as Greg’s voice boomed down the long ship. 

“Let’s go, guys! Boosters are firing in two minutes. Hustle!” 

The circular door swung shut behind Greg as he ducked back into the MDV. John followed Will across the commons room. Just before they reached the door to the MDV, Will suddenly veered to his right, towards the lab. Without even turning around, he managed to answer the inquisitive look flashing across John’s face. 

“My violin, John. It’s still in the greenhouse. Head in, I’ll be right behind you.” 

John’s reply never made it past his lips, the words yanked from his mouth in a gasp as a sudden blast of heat and light exploded beyond the airlock door. For a moment, he could neither hear nor see, simply floating peacefully in a soundless bubble. He wondered in a detached way if this was what it felt like to die. 

But in the space of the next breath, sensations came rushing back at him all at once; heat surging in from the cracks around the unsealed airlock door, the ear-shattering shriek of metal-on-metal, as if a massive alien hand were ripping their ship in two, the creak and groaning of the internal mechanisms of the spacecraft as it listed violently to one side. John’s breath punched out of him and he was unsure whether he’d taken a physical blow, or if it was simply shock causing his lungs to feel on the verge of collapse. All at once the shrieking and groaning ceased, all sounds sucked into the vacuum of space. Startled, he dragged in a desperate breath. 

His eyes flew open and immediately sought out Will, finding him exactly where John had last seen him, motionless in the doorway of the lab. Will blinked, the delayed cascade of sensory input flooding him. His lips parted, and in the eerie silence, John could hear his shuddering breath. John quickly scanned him for injury, but apart from the frozen look of shock on his face, he appeared to be physically unscathed.  

John lifted his hand and their eyes locked finally -midnight blue fixed on stormy sea-green- as his body moved towards Will, back towards the relative safety of the ship, away from whatever monstrosity awaited beyond these metal walls. As if in a dream, he crossed the small corridor, halting midway and blinking in confusion when the ship suddenly plunged into darkness. Something soft bumped against him. His fingers groped around and felt canvas, a zipper. For one heart-stopping moment, he feared that it was Will, and he’d been mistaken, that Will was  _ not fine _ but as his hands explored further, he discovered that it was only his own duffle bag, tossed aside in the chaos. He dug around in the bag until he found a flashlight, way at the bottom, under t-shirts and track pants. Flicking it on, he turned to aim it at the door to the lab, but the beam danced over empty space, no trace of Will. 

From behind him, a choked voice whispered, “Here. Over here.” 

John whirled around, the light of his flashlight bouncing frantically until he spotted Will, standing near the airlock, one hand resting on the circular window. John closed the distance, fear snaking up his spine at the sound of Will’s voice. He reached his hand out hesitantly and placed it between slender shoulders. The man was rigid, his breathing barely detectable. John moved around to the front of him, reaching for Will’s hand, his wrist, needing the reassurance of his steady pulse under his fingertips. He glanced through the window as he pulled thin fingers away, but instead of the interior of their descent vehicle, Molly’s brown hair bobbing around her head, and Greg’s kind eyes, wondering at their delay, he was met with an expanse of endless black space, speckled with stars twinkling innocently. At the very edge of his limited range of vision, he could just make out the silvery-grey of the descent vehicle. White smoke curled around bright orange flames, looking gaudy in the dark sky as they licked up the sides of the metal hull. 

For several moments, John couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the inky darkness, as all traces of the shuttle was swallowed up in the expansive space. Then, moving mechanically, his hands reached out and spun the airlock tightly closed. Finally, he turned and met Will’s eyes again, blown wide with terror. Will’s lips parted and he looked like he might speak, but he merely blew out a breath and squeezed his eyes together. John swallowed. The ship remained silent, as if it was holding its breath, allowing the two men a moment in their grief for their shipmates. 

A piercing alarm shattered the silence and John scrambled for his duffel, pulling out his tablet with one hand and reaching for Will with the other. 

“O2.” Will read the alert over his shoulder. His voice sounded hollow and flat.  _ Shock _ . John squeezed his hand, needing the reassurance as much as he needed to give it. He took a deep breath and turned to read the alert more fully.

“O2 is dropping steadily. Must have hit…” He craned his neck to look out of the round window again. An opaque gas could be seen leaking from the side of the ship, swirling as it dissipated into the darkness. He sucked in a breath and stabbed the screen to silence the alarm. “Must’ve hit the tanks. Shit.” 

“ _ Percival. _ ” Will’s voice was stronger now, John noticed with relief, although he wasn’t wasting any words. He nodded his agreement and followed Will back to the shuttle, his duffel bag trailing behind him. 

 

Once inside, Will seemed to come back to himself. He was flipping switches and muttering under his breath when John entered the ship, pulling the airlock shut behind him. They exchanged a long glance, the weight of the entire evening settling around them heavily. Will gave a tiny nod, and they both buckled into their seats. John tapped a few spots on the screen. He knew this ship was designed to land back on Earth, which meant that using it to land on Mars was possible, although highly dangerous. It was going to be a very bumpy ride. He started in on the protocol, scrolling through options quickly on the screen. 

“ _ Percival _ is designed for an ocean landing. It was supposed to return to Earth unmanned, once we detached it from the HAB and climbed into the MDV. Myc designed it to be reusable.” Will knew all of this, of course, but John found he couldn’t stop nervously chattering. “Since Mars’ gravity is significantly less than Earth’s, we’ll descend much quicker through the atmosphere. We can deploy the inflatables to cushion the landing, but it’s still going to be a pretty rough ride.” John’s tone implied much more confidence than he felt. In actuality, he had no idea if this plan would work. Most likely, they would shoot through the thin atmosphere so quickly, they would blast right through the upper crust of Martian soil, burrowing in like a giant, metallic mole. He realized Will had been silent during his entire overconfident monologue, not even scoffing at his burrowing mammal analogy. He glanced over and was surprised to find Will frowning at the screen, jaw clenched. 

“How long, John?” Will asked quietly. 

“Hm?” John reached to tap a different screen, preparing to detach the HAB from  _ Percival _ .

Will startled, shaking his head swiftly. 

“No. Wait. How long, John? How long until we land?” 

John’s hand hovered over the screen as he tried to puzzle out the sudden question. Certainly, the timeframe didn’t seem to be the most pressing issue. 

“I think about two hours. Why? Do you think we should keep the HAB attached? It’ll only add weight and velocity to our descent…” 

“Yes. Quite right.” Will steepled his hands in front of his mouth, tapping his index fingers against his lips. After a moment, Will shook his head again. 

“No, we definitely need it detached. But, I thought...maybe I could go check the oxygen tanks in the HAB. See if I can get them reattached. Or maybe there’s a portable tank somewhere…” Will trailed off, moving purposefully towards the door. John followed him with his eyes, head cocked quizzically. 

“Reattach? Will, I’m pretty sure they’re gone. We need to get down to the ground as fast as possible.” John made to reach for Will, to pull him back to his seat, but Will ducked away, already spinning the airlock. 

“ _ Percival’s  _ O2 tanks have enough oxygen left for two and a half hours of breathable air. You’ll be fine, as long as you hurry.”

And with that, he was through the portal, leaving John staring after him in dumbfounded shock. 

  
  



	11. Space Oddity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been blown away by the response to this fic. <3 From the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has read, bookmarked, left kudos or comments, sweetly inquired about the next update, included my spacebois on their rec list, made fan art, or had any part in making this one of the best experiences of my fic life. <3 <3 <3 you are rockstars. Thank you for your patience. :) 
> 
> This chapter's theme song is [ Space Oddity ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYYRH4apXDo) by David Bowie. I originally had this on a different chapter, but it was doubled up with a second song, and I just really feel like it needs its own chapter. Plus, I find it rather more fitting here, and I think you'll agree. 
> 
>  
> 
> TW: Mentions of suicidal thoughts

The call came through from mission control while Myc was attending the International Galaxy Gala. Annie pulled him away from his conversation, whispering that there was a situation. Within minutes, he had made his apologies and was on his way out the door, Annie’s heels clicking on the marble floor as she kept in stride. 

“I’ll drive, Ann.” He said, palm outstretched for the key fob. 

She eyed him speculatively for a moment before handing it over. 

“Only had half a glass of Saint-Emilion. It was the  _ 2020 _ .” She rolled her eyes in mock horror, but he could see her relax minutely as they crossed the parking lot to the Aston Martin. 

He climbed into the front seat and expertly pulled out of the parking lot of The Mezz, merging onto the Beeline towards headquarters. His palms were slippery on the steering wheel, dread making him sweat and his heart pound. He feared the worst. 

“Give me the details” His voice was clipped, tightly controlling all emotion. 

“No damage done, sir, but the ship took a hit from the meteor storm. Communication has not been made yet - we believe all of them are still asleep.” 

Myc kept his eyes fixed on the road, but he could feel Annie’s perceptive gaze sweep over him. After a moment, she too faced forward. He wondered what she had read in his body language; how much of his internal panic could be deduced from the way he held the steering wheel or clenched his jaw? 

When the impressive edifice of the IMMC headquarters loomed into view, Myc steered the car towards the modern glass portico instead of heading to the parking lot in the back. He left the car idling and climbed out, hoping Annie would read his mind like she usually did and park it. As he swiped his keycard at the front entrance, he heard the car slide smoothly away, but he scarcely registered the sound, his mind narrowly focused on one thought: Will Holmes. 

Myc had taken a special interest in Will from the moment he met the young, arrogant scientist. He was brilliant, without a doubt, but that wasn’t what intrigued Myc. It was the deep sorrow he could read so plainly in the young man’s eyes, the quiet desperation etched into those familiar-looking features. In the blink of an eye, he was back on an emerald mountainside, trying not to look down the dizzyingly sheer cliff as he climbed. The erected walls seemed to be built right into the cliffside, white and rust and bronze contrasting against the grey of the rock. As he cleared the next crest, a lone figure came into view; long legs folded gracefully as he balanced on a flat rock, lean arms wrapped around his knees. Myc had hesitated, watching the measured stillness in the lean form, a stark contrast from the nearly-hysterical man that had stormed out of the IMMC almost two years prior. 

Pushing thoughts of Will to the back of his mind, he strode into the main control room, where a larger-than-average team was assembled, looking bleary-eyed, but thankfully relaxed, for the time being. Styrofoam coffee cups and empty snack packaging littered the worktops, cluing Myc in to the number of hours they had already spent monitoring the storm and the flight. He scanned the room for Sally Donovan, the flight director. He felt a pang of guilt that he had been socializing while everyone else had been working overtime. 

The massive screen that encompassed the entire front wall was fixed on a live feed of the ship’s exterior, and from that angle, it appeared that most of the meteor storm had passed. In the bottom right corner, he could see the edge of the red sphere that was their destination. So close. They were so close. 

“HAB is requesting video.” Myc recognized Sally’s voice, strong over the noisy din, and spotted her dark hair from where she was leaning over a row of touch screens, all flashing with numbers and diagrams. Sally was new to the IMMC in the last year, but her no-nonsense demeanor and vast knowledge of the mission operatives made her an immediate favorite among the control center teams. She straightened and caught his eye with a tiny nod of her head. He had called her from the road, and agreed with her plan to get the crew down to the surface as fast as possible. It was incredibly risky; the faster the ship flew, the harder any impact would be, but the risk of running out of fuel if caught in the center of the storm was far greater. 

“I’ll handle it.” He moved towards her as he spoke and she nodded again briefly to show that she had heard him, before she went back to monitoring the screen at her fingertips. 

Myc went to the soundproof pod reserved for video calls and slid inside. Drawing in a deep breath, he braced himself for relaying the plan to the crew. At the sight of all four of them, perfectly safe and sound, he felt himself sag against the seat in relief. He let his gaze skip purposely over Will and John before settling on Molly. Margaret Hooper was one of the best pilots at the IMMC, but she was young and had a tendency to defer to the more senior members of any crew. Tonight though, the entire crew was dependent on her. They needed her tenacity and her rock-steady control to get to the MDV as quickly as possible. He tried to infuse the seriousness of the situation into his voice before ending the call, walking back into the main room and choosing an inconspicuous seat near the back. 

The mission control room was tense as all eyes were fixed on Molly while she docked. She did so flawlessly, seeming to barely even need the murmured guidance from the FIDO. It was only once the HAB was firmly seated and locked into the new spacecraft did Myc allow himself to release the lungful of air he had been holding. He unclenched his fingers from the arm of the padded chair and stood, rubbing his hand over his face. From this new external point of view, he could see that the crew were not out of danger yet at all; several large meteors had only barely missed the ship as they were docking. The crew was so far unaware of their immediate danger, as was intentional to avoid panic. 

With his hands shoved deep in his pockets, he walked out of the control room and made his way to the campus canteen, wishing for a strong cup of English Breakfast tea, but knowing he’d have to make do with an espresso. Fingertips rubbed his sore forehead, easing the tension fractionally, and he allowed his thoughts to drift as he sipped the fragrant beverage. As they tended to do in times of stress, his thoughts drifted right across the pond. London . That great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents and drifters were irresistibly drained. His fingers curled around the cup as he wondered which category his sister fell into these days. The last report he had been given was that she was back on the streets and back on the drugs. That was five years ago. He pushed the panic and guilt back down deep again, where they had resided for twenty years, as he heard hurried footsteps rush around the corner. 

“Myc. The MDV has been hit.” 

The assistant, whose name patch read B. Wiggins, was unable to hide the terror in his eyes and Myc took off for the control room without a word, jaw clenched tightly. 

Expecting chaos, the eerie silence of the control hub brought Myc to an abrupt halt, straddling the threshold as his eyes locked onto the wall of screens. The external cameras mounted to the HAB showed the MDV from different angles as it drifted further into the vacuum of space. Only the CAPCOM’s request, broadcasting at steady intervals, disrupted the shocked hush. 

“COM to MDV, do you copy?” 

 

“COM to MDV, do you copy?”

 

“COM to MDV, do you copy?” 

 

All at once, the ground crew seemed to come back into themselves, compartmentalizing as they were trained to do, and focusing on the work. Later, lying in bed with their partners, or curled around their dogs on the couch, they would allow the emotions to wash over them. Fear, grief, guilt. But for now, they were soldiers. Myc straightened his tie and swallowed hard, walking fully into the room. Around him, the room was buzzing with activity as the crew shouted to one another, running back and forth, tapping screens and refreshing feeds in desperate hope of reconnecting with the lost astronauts. Sally Donovan was in the center of the room, calmly directing their efforts. For several moments, Myc simply stood and listened, hands hanging limply at his sides. 

“Meteor might have just knocked connectivity loose- trying channel three!”

“COM to MDV, do you copy?” 

“Rebooting MDV’s COM remotely, standby”

 

The CAPCOM team continued on relentlessly, their voices steady and calm, betraying nothing.  

 

“COM to HAB, do you copy?” 

“Power’s been knocked out on the HAB - all systems are down. Hard reboot, standby.” 

 

Myc’s stomach flipped and for a moment, he thought he might be sick. He inched his way surreptitiously towards a plastic trash can, tucked in under a stretch of unused desk. 

“COM to  _ Percival _ , do you copy?” 

 

“COM to  _ Percival… do you copy??”  _

 

At the slight change in inflection in the CAPCOM operator’s voice, Myc’s head snapped up. Without pausing to think, he crossed to the CAPCOM’s desk, hand already outstretched for the microphone. Harry, the head CAPCOM officer, regarded him for a moment, then gave a brief nod, sliding her chair over to give him space. He grasped the coiled metal tube with sweaty fingers and cleared his throat. 

 

“Captain Watson, this is Mycroft. Do you copy?” 

A beat. 

 

“Commander Lestrade, do you copy?” 

He lifted his finger off of the button quickly, but was met with silence. 

 

“Officer Hooper, do you copy?” 

More silence.

 

“Wil--” 

His voice cracked as he realized his mistake. He could feel Harry’s eyes skitter sideways, but he kept his eyes focused on the wall screen. 

 

“ _Officer_ _Holmes_ , do you copy?” 

For just a moment, the entire room seemed to be holding a collective breath. Then, static erupted loud on the speaker. 

 

_ “Percival -  _ is that- do you copy? _ ” _

 

A shout, from the medic team on the far side of the room, broke the tense silence once more.

“Stats are back online!”

 

In three long strides, Myc was next to the medics, peering over their shoulder as they pulled up two flickering streams of data.  _ Two. _ His vision blurred, blood pounding in his ears. 

“We’ve got Holmes and Watson! Working to reconnect the others!”

 

Fingers flew over screens and keyboards, as the medic crew continued to talk excitedly to one another. A few cheers went up around the room, and the hectic pace seemed to increase, everyone sitting up a little straighter in their chairs to focus harder on the no-longer-impossible task of reconnecting with the astronauts. With wobbly legs, Myc lowered himself onto the closest chair, trembling fingers pressed together in front of his mouth. They were alive. Will was alive. He knew it was foolish to feel so strongly for the other man. Will was a grown man, after all. But Myc couldn’t help the protective flare he felt whenever he thought of the look on Will’s face as he had stormed out of the front door and sped recklessly down the highway that particular day in May. It was utter defeat, and he had had the misfortune of seeing its carbon copy once before, as his youngest sister Eurus had been pushed into the back of a squad car. The fire was the last straw. She had been tried as an adult for arson and murder of their parents, despite being only fourteen years old. The insanity plea had earned her a fifteen year sentence at Bethlem Royal Hospital. The day of the trial, Myc had boarded a plane to New Jersey, enrolled at Princeton, and never looked back. 

Myc had recognized in Will the look of someone who had nothing left to lose, whose mind was caught in an endless loop of self-loathing and regret, but who had so much more to give to the world. He was brilliant and charismatic when he wanted to be, but could also be withdrawn and brooding, sometimes not speaking to anyone for days. Myc wanted better for him, wanted to help save him from implosion, from self-destruction. With the help of Greg Lestrade, who had also expressed serious concern over Will’s abrupt departure, Myc had eventually tracked Will down, nearly two years after his sudden disappearance. Will had written a letter to Greg, apologizing for his outburst at the lab, and for being an idiot, too slow. Meretricious, he called himself. Greg had brought the letter immediately to Myc, who had arranged for a private jet, and a physician, to accompany him as he traveled there personally. He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him. Will had always been slender, but he was practically emaciated. His hair was long and unkempt, his usually sharp gaze unfocused. Myc’s chest ached with the memory. After they had made it safely back down to sea level, Myc checked them into a posh hotel room and sat quietly while the physician helped Will through the worst of the withdrawal. Myc was able to piece together some background information on Will, and wondered sadly if the young man had anyone else in his life who would have prevented that cliffside leap. He was a satellite, a lonely planet drifting in an aimless orbit. Or he was, until John Watson appeared in his life. Just from the brief contacts he’d had with the astronauts, Myc noticed a considerable change in Will. He anticipated that John Watson had the power to make Will better than ever, together on the red planet.   

 

_ “Percival  _ to COM… we copy”

The static had finally cleared and at the sound of John Watson’s voice, Myc nearly wept with relief.

 

“ _ Percival _ , Captain Watson, welcome back. We are only showing stats for you and Holmes at the moment, but we are working on connecting the other --” 

John’s quiet voice interrupted Harry’s.

 

“Copy, COM. Um, the other two- Commander Lestrade and Molly Hooper were on the MDV when it broke apart from the HAB. 

We - ah - I’m not sure you’ll be able to...” 

 

Harry cleared her throat and several sniffs could be heard around the room.

 

“Affirmative, Watson”

 

Myc’s gaze was pulled to Sally. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, then she squeezed hers shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. Without opening her eyes, she started speaking in a low voice. Despite the steady hum of voices still echoing around the room, her message was heard loud and clear.  

“Lock the doors. No communication is to leave this room, no media is to be alerted until we have confirmed… I want every attempt at communication made, every attempt to reconnect stats for Molly and Greg, power restored to HAB. Someone grab that binder, for god’s sake, and help them land  _ Percival.”  _

Myc listened numbly as the conversation around him settled into a diligent bustle once again, the joy of reconnecting with the two men tampered by the fear of having lost the other astronauts. He could hear John and Will’s murmured conversation as they prepared to land  _ Percival.  _ He rolled his head on his neck and was considering getting up to stretch his legs, when John’s sudden shout stopped him cold. 

 

“WILL!!” 

 

It was followed by the unmistakable hiss of the airlock sealing.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of this chapter was inspired by [ video footage ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbnT8Sf_LRs) from inside mission control during Columbia's failed re-entry. It's heart-wrenching to watch, and I hope that I was respectful in my brief homage here. <3


	12. The Scientist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a labor of love and I am *SO EXCITED* to finally share it with you. Enjoy, lovelies <3 
> 
>  
> 
> [ The Scientist ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8bG2nnrB-p4) by coldplay. This sherlock fan video by pixielou is my FAVORITE of all time. Makes me cry every single time. Even though it doesn't follow the same plot as our favorite astronauts exactly, it is still worth a watch if you haven’t had the pleasure. <3 
> 
> TW in this chapter for child death. Here, we'll finally learn what happened to John's daughter. If that is something that might affect you negatively, feel free to skip over it. It will be pretty obvious when you get to the spot. It's about a paragraph or two. It'll be safe to resume at _" John cut off then "_ <3 Take care of yourselves, good readers. 
> 
> As always, my beta and bestie @ThornyPeach was an INCREDIBLE resource to me while I worked (struggled, fought, gnashed...) my way through this chapter and ALL the feelings it brought with it. She has apparently inserted her voice so strongly into my head that I am able to have entire conversations with her in my mind (in the shower). Her GhostPersona is a bit forceful, though. I much prefer the real thing. Honorable mentions go out to 88thparallel, jbaillier and fellshish for their shouty encouragement as well. <3 <3<3
> 
> Warning for a lot of suicidal thoughts. There's a happy ending, though, I promise. <3

**** Will slammed the airlock closed and spun the wheel to seal it before he lost his nerve. He had a plan, and as much as it hurt to push away from John, he knew it was for the best. At the very least, he was ensuring John’s survival - there was plenty enough oxygen for John alone to survive on  _ Percival  _ until he made it to the surface. Will hoped fervently that the shuttle (and its occupant) would survive the landing. It was the best he could do. For a moment, he considered going back in. He knew the oxygen wouldn’t last, but the buried-deep romantic in him dredged up visions of slipping slowing into death while wrapped in John’s arms. Deep down, he knew he couldn’t do it. There was no way he could watch someone else he loved slip away from him, even with the promise of following soon after. 

He slumped against the round door, breathing steadily through his nose. The air inside the HAB was thin, each breath a struggle already. How long had it been since the explosion? He wasn’t sure, but it was clear that the oxygen reserves were already depleting. He needed to move quickly if he had any hope of executing his plan. The tiniest possibility that he’d see John again pushed him forward, towards the storage closet. He dragged his helmet along beside him as he moved through the room, unlocking the small airlock in the back. Maneuvering through the portal, he arranged himself in the cramped space. The FlexCraft was designed for brief missions - maintenance on the HAB or one of the shuttles, quick excursions into space, not for self-sacrificing missions straight into planetary soil. 

He had no idea how it would survive a descent, and was nearly positive it did not have the proper heat shielding to even make it through Mars’ atmosphere, but it was his only hope. 

He was already getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen, and it took him a few tries to power up the FlexCraft. He buckled himself into the tiny seat and spent a quick moment familiarizing himself with the controls. They were not very different from  _ Percival _ . After double-checking that everything was in order, he sealed the door. Black spots danced in his vision, and he finally allowed himself a deep breath of the blessed FlexCraft oxygenated air. He checked the gauge; he had about an hour’s worth of breathable air, plus about the same in the portable oxygen tank attached to his suit. He wanted to save as much of that one as possible for once he landed, just in case the terraforming hadn’t worked and the air was still not breathable. He pushed that thought forcefully out of his head. He couldn’t deal with that kind of doubt right now. 

Scanning the screen quickly, he spotted the button for undocking and pressed it firmly with his forefinger, unconsciously holding his breath until the red numbers popped up, counting down one minute to his release from the HAB. 

* * * * * * * * * *

The CAPCOM’s voice came over John’s headset, pulling him from his thoughts. He had piloted  _ Percival _ nearly on autopilot after Will had disappeared through the airlock, allowing the mission control crew’s voices to wash over him and guide his hand. If they were surprised by his reaction, they didn’t let on, maintaining professionalism throughout. He had asked - demanded, really - for any information, any communication, med stats tracking,  _ anything _ about Will’s whereabouts. The hesitation before they answered - something placating, meant to  _ calm _ , distract him, avoid his panic - had been all the information he needed. Will was gone. There hadn’t been any other O2 tanks, he hadn’t had a secret plan. He had abandoned John and left him alone. John had muted his own microphone and screamed until his throat was raw, pounding his fists on the armrests of his seat. Eventually, at the urgent pleading of the voice in his headset, he had disconnected the HAB, and with it, his heart, his mind, every newly explored connection to his...what?  _ Lover _ ? He nearly scoffed. Obviously, that connection had meant very little to Will, since he’d practically jumped at the chance to throw it all away. John shoved down all thoughts of the man, moving robotically after that. 

“John, there’s a chance we’ll lose communication as you descend through the atmospheric layer. If we do ---” The static intensified, garbling the rest of their words into nonsense. “ --- the parachute---” He closed his eyes, not caring in the least about parachutes, or any other instructions from the planet he was so desperate to leave behind. Will was gone. His wife was gone. His daughter was gone. He had nothing left, and he didn’t intend to survive the landing. Parachutes be damned. With shaking fingers, he reached forward and pressed the screen, turning off lights and systems until all that was left was the static in his headset. He welcomed it, wrapped it around himself like a blanket. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to leave Will’s communication channel open, but the silence on that line was thick, threatening to choke him with its heaviness, like a phantom limb that had been abruptly severed. 

He settled back to watch the oxygen sensor dip lower and lower, feeling a perverse sense of pleasure from the descending numbers and red alerts flashing. After a few moments, he felt his body relax against the seat, though his lungs were burning, trying desperately to pull in oxygen from the carbon dioxide filled air. His eyes slid closed and he counted backwards in his head. Not long now. Memories swam in front of his closed lids, much as they had in the greenhouse when he stumbled upon Will playing that first night. He watched as if from above while his daughter ran and played in the small yard behind their house. She tipped her face up towards him and smiled, the expression lighting up her entire face. He smiled back at her, feeling the answering tug of his cheeks grounding him to the shuttle, thousands of miles away from that long-ago memory. His helmet was fogging from his breath, and he dazedly watched the mist as it swirled in lazy patterns.

“John.” Will’s voice pierced through the grey space between reality and delusory.

John shifted in his seat and blinked slowly, the haziness in his head seeping out into a cloud surrounding him, fading and shifting, taking shape. Will’s voice floated in the haze and then he was there- auburn curls meticulously disheveled, galactic eyes clear and sparkling, the sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up to his elbows. His expression was serious, but his eyes were warm and gentle. 

“Tell me about her, John. Tell me about your daughter.”

It was impossible, John knew. The logical part of his brain knew that there was no way Will could know about his daughter; he had never spoken about her, and even after all of those nights in the greenhouse, when John was sure he must have been able to see the haunting pain in his eyes, Will had never asked. Just like there was no way Will was really sitting next to him, bright eyes locked on his, waiting patiently. John’s head swam and he blinked rapidly to clear his vision, but Will remained, perched delicately in the same seat from the launch.

So John told him. He told him all about that Tuesday, a day forever seared into his brain with the branding iron of regret; regret that their morning had been rushed, regret that he had been home late several times that week, often after she was tucked into bed for the night. Regret that his thoughts had been consumed with work, with research and preparing for his next flight. That morning, he had poured his coffee into his thermos and hustled out the door with little more than a quick kiss for his wife and daughter as they bustled around the kitchen, caught up in their own morning preparations. 

He told Will that he had almost not answered the call later that morning, since it came from an unknown number. He had silenced it, glancing back to his computer, before sighing deeply and sliding his finger across the phone screen.  _ It might be important. O _ f course, at the time, he had been thinking  _ important  _ meant something to do with  _ work.  _

He told Will about Gabi’s voice on the phone, the sound of it confirming his worst fears before her words registered.

 

_ “It’s Mary, John. She’s been airlifted. Hurry.”  _

 

She’d choked on a sob and disconnected, not even waiting for his answer. John was out of the door in seconds, making the forty-seven mile drive in less than a half-hour. Though most of the next few hours had seemed to pass in a blur, John could still recall with vivid, excruciating clarity the last time he saw his daughter; her pale skin barely discernible from the bleached sheets, the white gauze wrapped around her head and the pale green hospital gown. All the tubes and wires had been disconnected by the time he and Gabi had been ushered in. They were encouraged to stay and say goodbye, but John hadn’t been able to stay for long. He told Will how he had been overcome with anger, rage, the need to destroy barely held in check. He had stormed out, leaving Gabi alone as he searched for something to hit, someone to yell at.

“I couldn’t...I couldn’t always cope. I didn’t cope. I didn’t grieve. I lashed out, I drank, I yelled at my wife. Eventually, she left. She couldn’t handle me falling apart, not on top of the grief of losing our daughter. I took away everything she had left. And it was so stupid, all of it. A freak accident. God, that’s such a terrible fucking phrase. ‘Freak?’ Who is the freak, in that situation, hm? Because you can’t  _ blame _ anyone if it’s just an accident. Especially not if it’s an accident of freakish proportions. There’s just… there’s no one to blame. She was running, playing, just being a kid. It was supposed to be a fun day at the aquarium- a class field trip. She slipped in a puddle --- I was furious for the longest time at the unnamed person who left a puddle of water just fucking laying around. So furious, as if they put it there purposely to make my daughter slip and take her from me. She hit her head and never woke up.  And I never -  _ shit -  _ I never properly grieved. I never - I didn’t--”  

He broke off, nearly drowning in a fresh wave of anguish. For several minutes, he sobbed, unable to stop the flow of tears now that they’d started, unable to draw in a complete breath.   

“I owe- I owed her my tears. I owed her my grief. My life. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t cope and I didn’t grieve and I regret it. I regret it all. And I’ve lost you now too...I’ve lost everything. Everyone I’ve ever loved -- ” 

John cut off then, the words stuck in his throat, thick in his mouth. He glanced over to see Will still watching him, although he was starting to blur around the edges. Gathering his resolve, he cleared his throat.

“Ya know what? Fuck it. Yeah. Yes, I love Will Holmes. I love you, Will, if you can hear me, wherever you are. I love you and I never told you and I’m sorry. So much regret. You were -- no, you  _ are _ \-- the best thing that’s happened to me in years. I was so alone, and I owe you so much. But you’re… you’re gone. I couldn’t hold onto you, just like I couldn’t hold onto my daughter. I never-- ”

He stopped, whimpers tumbling out as he tried to regain control. After a moment, he hiccuped and opened his visor, scrubbing his gloved hands awkwardly over his face. 

 

“I didn’t get to say it, but I’ll say it now. I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Goodbye, Will.”

 

He was sweating, even though he could feel gooseflesh prickling all over his skin. He allowed his jaw to slacken, his head thumping back against the headrest as he slid his helmet back into place. “Goodbye”, he repeated to everyone and no one, feeling more alone than he ever had. 

“John.” Will’s voice was loud, too loud for the small space. John whimpered and turned his head away, fingers clenching on the arm rests. His head felt light, detached, like a balloon floating up into the sky.  

“John!” Even louder still. Will was practically shouting. John shook his head. He wasn’t real. “John, I need you…” 

John’s eyes flew open. It had sounded so real that time. Like he was somehow, impossibly, sitting right next to him. But the seat was empty, the seatbelt still flung to the side where the real Will had left it before leaving  _ Percival, _ leaving him. The voice in his head continued, though it was different now. 

 

“... to deploy the parachute. Do you copy, Captain Watson?” 

He recognized Myc’s voice and grunted. Reluctantly, he leaned forward and pressed the blinking yellow button to open the emergency hatch. Abruptly, the ship was tugged nearly to a halt as the parachutes deployed. He could hear the roaring of the engines as they reversed.

“Good. Good. Now, the lights and oxygen. You’ve got to survive this landing, John. For…” Myc sucked in a breath. “...everyone.” 

Another few taps with hands that felt like lead. All systems were back online and the external airbags inflated. Glancing out of the window, he could see that he was very close to the surface, his view quickly obscured by the white bubble that would cushion the landing. He felt numb, not caring in the slightest. Gritting his teeth against the sudden pressure as he descended through the thin atmosphere, he tried to recall the imaging he had seen of the new laboratories and habitats. As he flipped through the various rooms in his mind, he devised a plan. Once he was no longer connected to the constant monitoring and communication of the mission control room on Earth, he would find a quiet place and slip away. He’d make it look like an accident, perhaps a fall down a crater, or a loose O2 connection, and by the time the next manned mission arrived, it would be impossible to tell the difference. 

*** * * * * * * * * ***

The static coming in through the speakers increased in volume and clarity and Will recognized the crisp, lightly-accented voice as Myc’s. His heart clenched for just a moment; Myc had saved his life, yet it was a debt Will was unsure how to repay. In the years following his Rescue from the Precipice, as he had taken to calling it in his head, Will had never uttered even uttered so much as a thank you to Myc, choosing instead to react to the man’s kindness with cold indifference. It wasn’t that Will didn’t want his friendship, or to accept Myc’s natural inclination towards something akin to brotherly protection. He had simply always been alone, holding others at a safe arms-distance away, lest he grow attached again. He had far too much experience with that for a lifetime and had vowed to live a life of lonely solitude rather than risk any more heartache. After his breakdown in the lab, he had roamed the globe, tearing through his savings on plane tickets and chasing adrenaline highs from one pole to the other. When that refused to dull the sharp embarrassment of failure, he started experimenting with chasing highs of a chemical variety. He was at the arse-end of the universe - a shanty that smelled of incense and urine - with the scum of the Earth when he had his true stroke of genius. Within the hour, he’d bribed a sherpa with the rest of his stash, and pantomimed directions to  _ steep  _ and _ high.  _ The sherpa thought he wanted a good view and was happy to oblige, depositing him on the rocky cliffside and beating a hasty retreat back down the gravel path. 

Glancing through the window, he watched as the FlexCraft pulled away from the HAB. Using the controls, he guided it from the module, intending to pilot it until the gravitational pull from the Martian atmosphere took over. 

Without the large ship holding it in place, the craft moved easily through the darkness as Will kept it aimed down at the red soil visible below. After about 15 minutes, he could feel the force of the atmosphere gradually building on the spacecraft. 

 

_ Goodbye John.  _

 

Pushing through the gathering pressure, he reached one arm up with difficulty and flicked the microphone back on. 

“This is Will Holmes, reporting to ground control. I… I’ve made the decision to leave  _ Percival  _ in Commander Watson’s capable hands, and try and land using the FlexCraft for… experimental purposes. This was my own decision.” 

A sharp pain erupted in Will’s chest at the thought of all he was going to lose. Years and years of pushing people away, terrified of the overwhelming pain of losing someone else he loved, and it was over before it truly began. He had been so looking forward to starting a new life on Mars with John; had daydreamed the last few days of tending to the fledgling Martian plants in their own little garden, living in one of the research cabins together. He was going to suggest it to John as soon as they landed, on the trek to the village. No more sneaking around or hiding. 

“Tell - tell him… tell John… John Watson… that it was one hell of a ride.” He spoke aloud again, dubtful anyone could even hear him, but it helped him not feel so alone, helped to ease the clenching pain in his chest, helped to distract him from the dizziness and darkness of the inside of his head. He could hear snippets of words but they were choppy and fizzing with static, and no one seemed to be acknowledging him.

“As I see it, there are only two possible outcomes; either I make it to Martian soil in one piece and I have one hell of a story to tell or...or I burn up in the next… f-five minutes. Either way, whichever way I go… no harm, no foul...”

As the FlexCraft hurtled towards the surface of the red planet, it shook so violently, Will thought it might shake apart.  _ Wouldn’t that just be the thing?  _ He thought sardonically. He gripped the armrests of his seat and clenched his teeth as the roaring outside the small window grew to a deafening volume. Shifting his eyes slightly, he could see bright orange flames curling around the craft. He squeezed them shut. Better not watch. He hoped it would be quick. The temperature rose and he felt sweat break out along his forehead. Stupid. He should’ve put on his helmet first. Grunting with the effort, he tried to lift his arm to reach for it, but couldn’t lift more than a few fingers. Drops of sweat dripped into his eyes from the curls plastered to his brow. He blew a futile breath up, in an attempt to cool off, but it was as effective as a kitten batting at a tornado.

A loud cracking sound made him jump as something flew past the window. Shifting his gaze once more, the metal blurred, some pieces still engulfed in flames. His breath quickened and he pushed his head back against the seat, aching all over. The skin on his face felt as though it was blistering, exposed to the hot air of the cabin. The internal cooling system of his suit was keeping his core comfortable, but there was nothing to be done for his face. 

Just as he thought he couldn’t possibly bear another second of the severe heat, the spacecraft broke through the atmospheric layer. His body flew up against the straps and back down into the seat as the tiny vessel plummeted in freefall to the ground, spinning and flipping end over end. He kept his eyes shut and was fervently glad that he hadn’t eaten anything in hours. His stomach lurched with each rotation and acid burned the back of his throat. His head was swimming from the carbon monoxide slowly filling the ship with each of his breaths. The oxygen gauge was flashing red and beeping a warning signal as he struggled to fill his lungs. 

 

_ 20% _

 

The only uncertainty now was  _ how  _ he would die. Burned up? Smashed into pieces upon impact? Suffocation? He nearly laughed. At least it would be over soon. His eyes slid closed in relief. Not much longer now.

“I’m ready.” He gasped out, to no one in particular. He no longer felt dizzy or nauseous; quite the opposite, in fact. He was calm even as the small craft continued to flip and plummet to the ground below. A song popped into his head and he hummed along quietly. It was a song his mother used to sing to him, an old song: 

 

_ Fly me to the moon _

_ Let me play among the stars _

_ Let me see what spring is like _

_ On Jupiter and Mars _

 

His mom’s delicate features floated up from his memory - her sharp eyes, so like his own, her stylishly cropped auburn hair. He could recall her quick wit and dry sense of humor, though the exact timbre of her voice and laughter had dulled through the years. He ached for her and felt tears spring to his eyes. He had never believed in an afterlife, but now… now he found himself hoping for one, if only to see her, embrace her, bury his face in her shoulder and breathe in her specific scent, clean and distinctly her. He hadn’t thought much about the specifics of his own death; the memory of hers still too painful and raw even after all these years, but he wondered briefly if it would hurt, or if it would be over quickly. He hoped, not for the first time, that she had died instantly, that she hadn’t felt pain. She had been so young, and had so much potential. Funny, someone had said that about  _ him _ , once upon a time. 

 

_ “Taking your own life. Interesting expression. Taking it from whom? Once it’s over, it’s not you who’ll miss it.”  _

_ The footsteps drew closer, sending gravel skittering down the steep face of the cliffside. Will leaned over, watching as they bounced and disappeared.  _

_ “Your own death is something that happens to everybody else. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Holmes?”  _

_ The voice was strained, the footsteps stopping directly behind him. He teetered precariously. _

 

He kept his eyes closed and waited for the inevitable crash, the cacophony both inside and out becoming rhythmic, keeping in time to the music in his head.

 

_ In other words, hold my hand _

_ In other words, darling, kiss me _

 

“Will?”

John’s voice surrounded him, hushed and reverent, yet somehow rising above the roar of the surrounding inferno outside. His limbs were growing heavier, drenched in molasses, the tightness in his chest and the swirling dizziness subsiding. 

It was eerily quiet in the ship all of a sudden. Will strained his ears, listening for the scream of the descending capsule or the oxygen alarm that had been wailing only seconds before. John had sounded so close, so real. He squeezed his eyes even tighter.  _ Not real. _ He had left John in  _ Percival.  _ John was going to land and be fine, fine,  _ fine _ . 

 

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes.” 

 

John was more serious this time, sounding an awful lot like his mom did when he was young and being disobedient. 

“You are not going to die. You are going to land this spacecraft. Isn’t that right? Say it. Say you don’t want to die, Will.” 

Will blinked in surprise and found himself staring into the bright blue eyes of John Watson. Will’s heart leapt in his chest at the sight of him. 

“Impossible.” He whispered. His fingers stretched forward, but John cut him off with a glare.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

Will swallowed. 

“I don’t want to die.” He spoke automatically. 

“Again, Will. Make me believe it.” 

“I don’t…want to die.” His voice cracked as the weight of the words settled around him. His eyelids fell heavily. 

 

_ “Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it.”  _

_ Long fingers entwined his wrist and tugged gently. He allowed himself to be pulled away from the edge, and guided carefully down the twisting mountain road.  _

 

“Your helmet, Will. Put on your helmet. Quickly, love, before it’s too late!”

Will’s eyes flew open, startled by the term of endearment. He wanted to laugh, or weep, to tease John or kiss him, but John was gone. The FlexCraft was empty and noisy again; the oxygen alarm sounding one long, shrill tone. 

 

_ 5% _

 

His helmet scraped against the window and he stuck out his arm to snag it. Pulling it on, he fastened it against his suit and drew a deep breath of the welcome oxygen.  _ I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.  _ His words echoed back to him, pinging loudly around the inside of his brain as he gulped in air. He could hear the voices more clearly now, though they were still scrambled with interference and static, he could make out one word –  _ boosters.  _ Of course! The boosters would slow the descent of the vehicle, possibly enough to make the landing not catastrophic. With difficulty, he found he could just reach the correct control if he stretched his arm to its limit. He held his other arm tight against his body so it wouldn’t accidently bump into any other controls and mess up this last-ditch effort, the only bit of hope he had left. 

…Now! 

On the next rotation of the FlexCraft, he lunged for the red square, jabbing it with his middle finger and lurching as the small craft blasted him back towards the sky. After only a moment, it resumed its descent, this time at a much slower speed. The boosters were trying their hardest to keep the FlexCraft from slamming into the ground. Will watched as the ground drew closer and the numbers on the screen dropped. 

 

_ Altitude: 8.16 km _

_ Deceleration: 93 m/s _

He was slowing, but not quickly enough. 

 

_ Altitude: 4.21 km  _

_ Deceleration: 74 m/s _

There was no question- he was still going to hit, and hit hard. 

 

_ Altitude: 2.21 km _

_ Deceleration: 52 m/s _

 

As Will watched, the dusty crimson ground rushed toward him, and he braced for impact, his own breath loud in his ears. The last thing he heard was John’s voice, broken, through the static.  

 

“Goodbye, Will.” 

* * * * * * * * * *

John’s unfocused gaze shifted to the front window, as something caught his eye. He blinked, trying to make sense of the object through the bright flare of flames. As he watched, the flaming hunk hit the surface, bounced twice, throwing billowing clouds of sandy dust up around it, and came to rest, half buried in the sand. A few moments later, John felt his own shuttle settle into the soft ground, the airbags deflating swiftly. He squinted at the distant object, his head still feeling fuzzy, and his mind focused on his plans. As the dust settled around the silver chunk, mangled nearly beyond recognition, save for the recognizable IMMC logo emblazoned on what used to be the tail, the answer slammed into his brain. 

_ FlexCraft _ . 

The tiny craft was designed for an individual astronaut for extra-vehicular or tele-operated activities, such as repairs. It was  _ not _ designed for descent or landing. John doubted it even had the proper heat shielding, and the fact that he was looking at any part of it at all was a miracle in itself. He had forgotten they were even stored on board the HAB, as the crew hadn’t had need for them during the flight. He looked up then, craning his neck to see around the top of  _ Percival _ and beyond, towards the sky, to see if anything else had dislodged from the HAB. Not probable, unless... 

_ Oh, god. _

The realization hit him so hard it was nearly a physical blow. His hands fumbled with the buckle as he attempted to free himself from the restraints of his seat. He yelled into his helmet, unable to hear a response over the sound of his own heartbeat thudding in his years. Launching himself at the airlock, he grabbed blindly for the wheel, spinning it with one hand and reaching for the medical kit off the wall with the other. He tugged at the velcro strips in annoyance until they released, nearly losing his balance. He managed to stay upright, hurtling himself through the airlock as soon as the pressure was released. The static in his helmet climbed to a deafening roar, all communications apparently lost. He shut off the COM. If his worst fears - no, not his worst, he’d already assumed Will was dead once before - were true, and Will had flown the FlexCraft and somehow managed to land it here on the surface, there was absolutely nothing the crew on Earth could do to help. John was completely and utterly alone.

Squaring his shoulders, he took a step, mentally preparing for the jarring difference in gravity - somewhere between the weightlessness of space that he’d grown accustomed to in the last forty-odd days, and the comfortably familiar movement of Earth. Bolstered, he took another step, then ducked his head for a half-floating sprint across the ground towards the destroyed ship. Golden dust clung to his boots as he bounced, scowling at the glacial pace. It felt as though he was running underwater, and for a manic second, he wondered if he was trapped in a nightmare instead. But he could feel the ground give way under each step, so he surged ahead, terrified of what he may find, but determined to press on. 

It took nearly ten minutes to cross the rocky terrain and he breathed a sigh of relief as he drew near. Up close, the body of the spacecraft appeared to be mostly intact, though it was sunk at least two meters into the soft soil, black and smoldering. John crept gingerly down the side of the crater made by the landing vehicle and picked his way around blackened chunks of metal, his insides twisting with each step. The ship was sunk in at a forty-five degree angle, with the front windshield buried so deep it wasn’t even visible. With controlled movements, he pried the door open, grateful that the crash landing had depressurized the seal. He pushed inside, swallowing down the lump that was rising in his throat. Will was slumped forward, his face obscured, the seat belt causing him to be nearly doubled over. His arms hung limply. 

“No, no, no, no.” John’s whispered pleas propelled him. 

“Will!” 

He reached for Will’s arm, cursing at the suit when he couldn’t get to his wrist to take a pulse. He wedged himself down into the space by the windshield, gathering Will’s gloved hands in his own.

“Please. Don’t...be...dead.” He gritted out through clenched teeth as he pushed gently on his shoulders, finally getting a good look at the younger man’s face. His eyes were closed and his head lolled against John’s shoulder. There was a large crack down the right side of his helmet and moisture was beading up inside. John squinted, focusing on Will’s parted lips as his hands worked the buckles and started to ease the straps off of his shoulders. Finally, he saw the blessed fog of a breath ghost against the glass. 

“Yes. Good, Will. Just like that, love.” He murmured, pushing the straps away and bracing himself to take his weight. “Nice breaths...good.” Another shallow breath; this time John could feel Will’s chest expand against his as he gently eased him down. Will shuddered and John winced in sympathy; Will had most likely broken or at least badly bruised his ribs. He glanced around. The ship was still smoking, and he needed to get Will to the base, but wasn’t sure he should move him without checking him over for injuries. Shifting his arm around Will’s waist, he ran the other palm gently down his sides. It was difficult to diagnose with the bulky layers of Will’s suit and his own gloves. He maneuvered in the tight space to better support Will and considered his options. If he could get Will out of the ship without causing too much damage, he could possibly fashion a stretcher out of some of the parts of the broken ship… Will groaned and shifted; his mouth was moving, but his eyes remained pinched shut. John leaned in, cursing when their helmets knocked together. In one swift movement, he crossed his wrists behind Will’s back and removed one of his own gloves. Sliding his bare hand up Will’s back, he unclipped Will’s helmet, murmuring to him the whole time that he needed him to open his eyes and wake up. He had no idea if the air was breathable in here. Even if there had been oxygen left inside the pressurized spacecraft, the seal had been broken when it crashed. But the need to touch Will, to feel his smooth skin under his fingertips, to confirm that he was real, and  _ alive _ , overwhelmed John. He hesitated for just a moment, then reached up and unfastened his own helmet, pulling it off awkwardly with one hand while he took a experimental breath through his nose. Air flowed easily into his lungs. He squeezed Will’s hand as tears pricked his eyes.

“You did it, you brilliant man. You did it.” Hastily, he pulled Will’s helmet off and pressed trembling lips to his temple. There was a deep gash across Will’s right eyebrow. John reached up and wiped the blood trickling into his eyes. Will moaned through his nose, his mouth working silent syllables. 

“Will? Open your eyes for me, love. C’mon… that’s it. Just like that.” John pulled his other glove off, using the low gravity of the planet to his advantage as he held Will with one arm. He couldn’t seem to stop touching him, even as a slimy snake of fear writhed in his gut. His fingers worked gently through auburn curls, sticky with sweat, feeling for head injuries. He patted Will’s cheek, the coarse hair of his stubble prickling John’s palm. Will stirred again, shaking his head.

“...m’sorry… tell John--” Will coughed weakly, whimpering in pain. “...tell him m’sorry…I tried … my… best… ” 

John’s chest clenched in sympathy at Will’s anguish - both physical and mental. He pulled him closer, mindful of his injuries. He stumbled over his words, needing the reassurance as much as Will. 

“Will… it’s me. It’s John. You survived the crash, and I’m here now. You wonderful, selfless,  _ brave _ man. You saved us both.” He tipped Will’s chin up, and nearly smiled when he saw the familiar, full lips pushed forward into a pout. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against the corner of Will’s mouth and couldn’t help the breathless, relieved, giggle that slipped out when Will gasped.  _ Giggling, at a time like this. _ Will’s eyes snapped open and John’s name fell from his lips, an answered prayer. 

His eyes were glassy and unfocused, brimming with tears as they raked over John’s face, inches from his own. His fingers tightened in John’s grip. 

“John?” His voice was hoarse.

“It’s me. Oh god, there you are. I thought I’d lost you.” John swallowed and sniffed. “I said goodbye.” 

 

“I know.” Shallow breaths punctuated each word. “I heard you.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS song: [ Fly me to the Moon ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FMUA6vPfsvQ) by Ol' Blue Eyes himself


	13. Across the Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite spacebois have made it (FINALLY) to the Red Planet. They are banged up, but together. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the healing can begin. We're in the home stretch! I think there will be 2-3 more chapters after this. <3 <3 <3 I will certainly be sad to leave these two, but have a feeling I'll be popping back in with some one-shots here and there. :) I don't think I could leave these two idiots for long. Eternal thanks to my betas (I HAVE !!TWO!! NOW!) - @88thParallel and @ThornyPeach <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Going classic with this chapter's song -- [ Across the Universe ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GppD40mdpYE) by the Beatles <3 <3 <3 
> 
> _Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,_  
>  Possessing and caressing me. 
> 
> mmm....lovely
> 
> And YOU, wonderful readers. You are lovely as well. :-*

With some difficulty, as Will was rather banged up, John managed to get them both out of the FlexCraft’s cramped quarters. He maneuvered their helmets into place and turned their headsets back on so they could communicate with each other as they navigated the rough terrain. Though the air appeared to be breathable, the risk of radiation was still high. The COM channels to mission control were flipped back on as well, though the delay would make it impossible to have real-time conversation. John held Will loosely around the hips, careful not to jostle his ribcage, as he pushed open the hatch and climbed out onto the rocky terrain, where he was startled to see a transport rover idling. Though he’d been distracted, John was certain it hadn’t been there when he arrived. He glanced around, then up to the sky in a silent gesture of gratitude. 

“Myc.” Will’s gasp had an amused lilt to it, and John looked up to see him roll his eyes, but there were laugh lines in the corners. John nodded, unable to trust his voice for the lump in his throat. 

Settling Will gently against a large rock, he turned to prepare the rover. The large metal vehicle had four seats available for the astronauts, and a detachable lab at the back end. Climbing into the front section, he made quick work of folding down the seats to make a large, flat area. Once he had collected Will, and arranged the two of them as comfortably as possible on the carpeted floor of the vehicle, they were on their way. Will laid his head in John’s lap, eyes pinched against the pain as John tried his best to keep him still. Through the glass of the helmet, John inspected the wound on his head, silently kicking himself for leaving his medical bag in the FlexCraft. He worked to control his own rising panic, murmuring into the headset until he felt Will’s limbs soften and his breathing slow. John glanced out the window at the barren landscape as it passed. They were well and truly alone on an entire planet, foreign and alien. He shuddered, the reality settling around him like a shroud. 

Cold wind howled as they exited the rover. John gave the shiny aluminum lump an affectionate pat as it trundled away, then turned, sliding his arm back into place around Will’s waist, and pulling Will’s arm across his own shoulders. He’d come so close to losing him, before he’d even told him how he felt. When Will said he’d heard John, did he mean he’d heard him say goodbye, or… everything? John’s face flushed when he remembered how he’d wept, grieving over his entire life falling apart so spectacularly. But now, now he’d been given a second chance. A clean slate. An entire world to call their own. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Will swayed and John glanced up to see him fighting to keep his eyes open. His face was drawn and pale, the effects of their journey written plainly across his features. John’s arm tightened protectively. 

“Home sweet home.” He shrugged. “Let’s get you inside.” 

The two men shuffled over the threshold into the airlock of the main settlement building that would serve as both a laboratory and meeting room for the scientists. It was the only standing structure so far, and had been constructed remotely by robotic arms. The rest of the settlement housing would need to be unpacked from the large containers scattered around the compound and then inflated into large domes that resembled igloos. Shifting his grip around Will, John shut the door quickly behind them, and spun the airlock, glancing around in a daze while he waited for the small room to pressurize. His mind whirred, making lists and prioritizing, the knot in his stomach tightening painfully. A soft noise in his ear made him jump and he looked guiltily up at his partner. Will was nearly white, shallow breaths escaping through his parted lips. His eyes flicked to John’s. “Stop...it. I can… hear… you thinking.” 

There was no venom behind the words though, and Will’s eyes slid closed from the exertion. The green light flickered on, and John reached to remove first Will’s helmet, then his own. Will stumbled and John’s arms shot out to steady him, easing him down to the floor. He slumped against the wall as John worked first one boot, then the other off of his feet, smoothing his thumb across Will’s swollen ankle. Will flexed his toes and hummed in pleasurable relief when John pulled off his socks. Working as quickly as possible, John stripped them both down to their boxers and t-shirts, shivering in the cool air. He glanced over Will, taking inventory of his various injuries. 

“Stay here for a minute while I sort out what’s what inside,” he said, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss in Will’s hair. “Take nice, slow deep breaths. Breathing shallowly will increase your risk for pneumonia and I don’t think --” He cut himself off, swallowing back the panic. “Just breathe, okay? And don’t fall asleep until I can get a look at your head.” 

Will shifted against the wall, stretching out his legs and tipping his head back. He nodded in acknowledgement, a soft smile flitting across his face. “Yes, doctor.” 

John stepped through the airlock into the main room and conducted a quick survey. It was empty except for rows of boxes that had been placed neatly against the far wall. 

He made it to the nearest box before his knees buckled and he slid to the floor. The adrenaline of the day had evaporated, leaving him feeling shaky and weak. His thoughts spiraled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Will’s cut most likely needed stitches and he was clearly in a lot of pain; possibly broken ribs, internal injuries, sprained ankle for sure... John needed to find the container of medical supplies -- portable scanner, antibiotics, pain reliever, bandages, suture kit… He wasn’t a doctor. He’d been a paramedic before he started work at IMMC and that had been enough practical knowledge to earn him his medic license, but he hadn’t practiced his skills on anything other than a dummy in years. 

He wiped his sweating palms on his shirt. Somewhere around here there must also be cots to assemble… and food? All of their belongings, and the rest of the packages of food had been abandoned on the HAB… They’d need water, immediately. He swallowed, feeling suddenly parched. He’d left his bag with his tablet and his charger on _Percival_ … He’d have to go back and get it… 

He moved to stand and doubled over, gripping his knees, dry heaves racking his body. His pulse thudded in his ears. He had to calm down. Tears pricked in the corner of his eyes. He let his head drop between his knees and sunk back down to the floor, counting as he inhaled, held it, exhaled. How long had he been gone from Will? If he’d fallen asleep with a concussion… no. 

John pushed himself to his feet, collecting his scattered thoughts with difficulty. First priorities were water and a bed for Will. Medical supplies. Then food. Nodding briskly to himself, he straightened, scanning the labels on the boxes until he found one marked “medical supplies”. He popped the lid off, pawing through the neatly organized items and collecting what he needed in a little pile. 

Next, he moved to the one marked in bold, capital letters “SURVIVAL”. In it, he found cases of bottled water, beef jerky, and packets of nuts and dried fruit. He slid those over to join the rest of the gathered items and crawled on his hands and knees until he found the flat-pack boxes of cots and vacuum-sealed bedding. He stood once again, swaying slightly, and hesitated, debating between setting up a bed first, or going back to check on Will. Scooping up the supplies in one arm, he pushed back through the door, taking deep breaths to try and steady his shaking hands. 

“M’not asleep” Will said weakly as soon as John entered, one corner of his mouth tipping up in a tired approximation of a smile. 

John felt his shoulders pull away from his ears as his own lips curved. “Good.” 

He blew out a breath, dropping to his knees beside Will, and clicking his tongue at the vivid bruises already blooming on his pale skin. Extracting the hand-held scanner from the pile he’d unceremoniously dumped on the floor, he turned it on. While he waited for it to start up, he pulled out some gauze and cleaned the cut on Will’s head, working methodically. Will’s eyes remained closed, and John could feel the gentle puff of his breath against his cheek. He ran his fingertips across Will’s forehead. 

“This is pretty deep,” he murmured, more to himself than Will. Will wrinkled his nose in response and shrugged. “Any dizziness, nausea?” At Will’s affirmative hum, John lifted each of his eyelids, shielding with his hand as he checked his pupils. “I think it’s just a mild concussion.” He blew out a breath, censoring himself. _I hope._

“Obviously.” 

John chuckled, relieved to hear some of Will’s personality sparkling back to life. 

Reaching back into the pile, John pulled out another small device that he had seen, but never had a chance to use back home. It was a surgical robot that fit in the palm of his hand, and had a flexible, retractable arm, making it useful for suturing anything from a head wound to major organs. He turned it over in his hand, familiarizing himself. Ignoring the roaring feeling of inadequacy, he lifted his eyes and met Will’s gaze. Will’s eyes were bloodshot, and his eyelids were drooping, but his gaze was steady and full of love. Will trusted him.

John slid his hand onto Will’s knee and squeezed gently. “Tiny pinch, ready?” 

He pressed a button on the side of the device and a needle poked into Will’s skin above his eyebrow. John repeated the action all along the laceration, watching as the needle disappeared, injecting the numbing agent. When he was confident Will wouldn’t feel a thing, he pressed another button on the device, more than grateful that the tiny needle did all of the stitching for him. His eyes were blurring and his hands shaking as he tied the end of the thread and snipped it off. He could feel Will’s eyes on him as he continued his careful examination. The scanner showed swelling and bruising around Will’s ribs and ankle, but thankfully no broken bones or internal bleeding. John’s heart thudded in his ears as he helped Will to his feet, murmuring in sympathy when Will’s eyes squeezed shut. 

“Dizzy?” He made sure to keep his voice low; Will had complained several times already of a headache, pressing his fingers into his temple and asking pitifully for pain relief, only to repeat the entire process again a few minutes later, seemingly without any recollection of John’s patient answer. ‘Not yet’, he had said each time Will asked. ‘Need to get some food and water in you first.’ 

Will nodded, wincing as he pulled in a deep breath and let it hiss slowly through his teeth. After a moment, he opened his eyes but kept his head down, staring at his feet. John swallowed, watching him with growing unease. _Water, food, painkillers, and sleep._ He’d reassess after he and Will had had all of those. Hopefully with a bit of rest he’d be able to gain some of his own confidence back. The dark shroud of anxiety simmered just under the surface as he gently helped Will limp through the door and into the semi-dark room. He kept the lights off, guiding Will to the box labeled SURVIVAL by the dim light of the single window and pressing a bottle of water and a packet of beef jerky into his hands. He turned toward the cot box, operating nearly on autopilot, but Will’s voice stopped him. 

“John. Come here. Take… a break.” Will pressed a hand to his side as he spoke, but his voice was firm. He held his other hand out, beckoning to John to join him on the floor. John complied, sinking down next to him and uncapping his own bottle of water. The liquid sloshed in his trembling hands. 

“I’m okay, John. I’m… alive, but you… won’t be… if you keep… this up.” Will’s eyes were wide, pleading. “Gotta take care… of yourself too.” He nudged John’s ankle with his good foot, his bare toes cold against John’s warm skin. 

John gave him a weary smile and popped a handful of trail mix into his mouth, leaning his head onto Will’s shoulder. Easier said than done. But for Will, for both of them, he’d try his best. 

“Deal.”

* * * * * * * * * * 

“Rest up.” He tucked the blankets in gently around Will’s lean frame on the cot and picked up a pillow that had gotten knocked to the ground, adjusting it under Will’s ankle. His mind was far away, continuing the mile long list of things he had to do before he let himself get some real rest. Christ, but he was tired.

He reached to grab an empty water bottle from the bed, but Will’s fingers caught his wrist. 

“John, there’s something... I should say… I’ve meant to say… I --” 

John paused and reached his other hand up, automatically stroking the back of his knuckles across Will’s cheek, concern creasing his forehead as he listened to the way Will still had to pause and gasp for breath between words. Hopefully, the painkillers would kick in soon. Will needed to rest. His fingers tangled into the soft curls by Will’s ear and he gave a gentle tug, his lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“It’s alright, Love. We can talk tomorrow. Just get some sleep, okay?” 

Will leaned into the touch, and John nearly expected to hear him purr like a drowsy housecat. But then he shook himself roughly and cleared his throat, wincing. John’s eyebrows lifted and he dropped his hand, worry and affection warring for space inside his head. Will didn’t seem to notice the change; his gaze was faraway, lips pressed together into a straight line. John watched him, and caught his breath when those brilliant eyes snapped to his. Will’s lips parted and John could practically see his mind whirring as he worked out what he wanted to say. 

“Thank you.” 

Will fidgeted nervously with the blanket and swallowed. John caught his chin with his fingers, tipping it up, searching Will’s eyes for all the unspoken. They were rimmed in red, extracting the vivid green of his irises. John exhaled, his chest aching with love so intense it was nearly painful.

“Is that all?” John murmured, settling his hip on the bed and brushing his lips against Will’s. He felt, rather than saw, the tiny shake of Will’s head. His hair tickled John’s forehead. Will’s eyes lifted once more and met John’s. At the connection, John felt something deep inside of him melt, all responsibilities slipping to the background for the moment. 

“I love you.” Will’s teeth caught his bottom lip and he looked so lost, so vulnerable, that John’s heart squeezed in his chest. 

“Oh” Barely audible, the word slipped out on a breath. He cupped Will’s face in his hands, thumbs tracing circles on perfect cheekbones, memorizing the hypnotic brush of his dark lashes where they fanned against his pale skin. “I love you too, you perfect, amazing man. I think… I loved you the moment I met you.” 

He scooted closer on the bed, tipping Will back against the pillows as he kissed him, long and languid and sweet. All the tension melted away from both of their bodies as the kisses slowed, lips still touching, foreheads pressed together. Will’s eyes had drifted shut. John pulled away, kissing the tip of his nose before standing.

“I needed you to know.” Will’s voice was scratchy and low, slurred with sleep. “I need you… always.” His eyes remained closed and after a moment, his breathing slowed and deepened. John patted his hip and slipped away, feeling warm down to the very core of his being.

* * * * * * * * * * 

**_SOL 1_**

John cleared his throat and lifted his eyes to stare directly into the lens of the camera. 

“This is John Watson, of the International Mars Mission Cooperation. I was sent here on the _Percival_ mission with three other astronauts - William Holmes, Molly Hooper, and Greg Lestrade. On October twenty-eighth, two thousand thirty-five, as we were preparing for descent and undocking, our ship passed through a meteor storm. The Mars Descent Vehicle was hit, and became uncoupled from the habitation module.” 

His eyes dropped and he wiped at an invisible smudge on the screen, swallowing noisily before continuing. 

_“Astronauts Hooper and Lestrade were on the descent vehicle when it was hit and they-- we haven’t established communication with them again since.”_

Sucking in a breath, he raised his eyes back to the camera lens.

 _“There was evidence that the oxygen tanks had been damaged in the explosion, so Will--Holmes made the rash, but ultimately brave decision to leave_ Percival _and try and land using an… alternative craft.”_

John noticed his left hand was clenched into a fist. With effort, he smoothed it out and wiped it on his knee. 

_“Both Holmes and I landed safely on the planet, although Holmes sustained injuries in the crash. I have tended to his injuries to the best of my abilities and he is resting comfortably here in the main lab.”_

John glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, in the direction of the cot. He paused, listening to confirm his statement. He could hear Will’s steady breaths and forced his own lungs to match the rhythm. 

_“Tomorrow, we will begin the work of habitation - inflating our cabin… ”_

His eyes shifted uneasily offscreen and he chewed on the inside of his lip. How much should he share? And was he being presumptuous thinking he and Will would share a cabin? He coughed. 

_“Inflating all of the cabins and beginning work on the interior of the laboratory. All of our belongings and the rest of the food and eco-pods were left on the HAB when we evacuated, so we only have the rations from the payload containers to sustain us until…”_

Actually, he had no idea how to finish that sentence. Until what? The next wave of researchers had been set to arrive in just over three months, but that was taking into account _Percival’s_ return trip to Earth to collect them, and the forty-five day flight back to Mars. Since _Percival_ seemed to be stuck here, he had no idea when, or if, anyone else would arrive. 

_“...until someone arrives, or we run out of food. At my estimate, that might be around… a hundred sols.”_

He sighed, feeling tired down to his very bones. He could deal with this tomorrow. And the next day. In fact, for the next few months, it seemed all he would be doing is “dealing with this.”

* * * * * * * * * * 

Abruptly, he snapped off the video feed and stood up from the low container he had been using as a seat. It had seemed important to document their journey, but it had only served to remind him of what a complete mess they were in. The relaxation from earlier had vanished, and a fresh wave of panic was setting in. _One day at a time_ , he thought. He had promised Will he’d take care of him- both of them- and he planned to make good on that promise.

He finished his bottle of water and stretched, groaning as he remembered the not-yet-assembled cot waiting for him. With limbs that felt like lead and his head pounding with each step, he shuffled over to the open crate in the corner and pulled out another vacuum-sealed pack of blankets and pillows. He tossed the entire pack on the floor next to the bed, then moved to rest his palm on Will’s chest. He leaned in close, listening to the slight wheezing of his breath before sliding his hand up to Will’s shoulder and shaking gently. He looked so young and vulnerable, deep in the comfort of sleep. Will grunted and cracked one eye open. 

“Hey, just checking in on you. Can you open both eyes?” John spoke softly, not wanting to exacerbate either of their headaches. Will complied, lying quietly as John checked his pupils and stitches. Satisfied, John kissed Will’s forehead and watched his eyes slip shut once again. 

He shook out the bedding, and laid down on the floor next to Will’s cot. Only once he was sure Will was asleep did he let himself finally fall apart, his body convulsing with silent sobs until he felt wrung out, the pillow beneath his head soaked through. 

He reached up blindly, groping around in the dark until he found Will’s hand, cool against the blanket. Exhausted and momentarily reassured, he shuddered through the aftershocks of his emotional release until his body gave in to the blessed relief of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neat research stuff: 
> 
>  
> 
> [ Futuristic Space Medicine ](https://www.nasa.gov/audience/foreducators/9-12/features/F_Space_Medicine.html)
> 
>  
> 
> [ Rover Prototype ](https://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/2017/06/09/nasa-unveils-visionary-mars-rover-could-future-transport-red/)
> 
> Also, a Mars day is called a sol. :)


	14. What is the Light?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and John are idiots, but they're finally getting it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title comes from the song [ What is the Light ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmzbPLbA9cA) by The Flaming Lips. It’s sultry and sexy and sweet - 
> 
> _Looking into space, it surrounds you/ Love is the place that you're drawn to_
> 
> I mean…… *happy sigh* These two. Are so in love. <3 <3 <3

Will woke slowly, blinking in the dim room. He turned his head on his pillow, frowning slightly when he spotted John’s sleeping form on his own cot, three feet away. His chest ached in a way completely unrelated to his injuries. His ribs were actually healing nicely already, thanks to John’s gentle care. His ankle throbbed as he shifted and he groaned quietly. He could feel where his bandage had loosened during the night. Unwilling to get up just yet, he stretched carefully, pulling in a deep, slow breath through his nose as he watched John’s chest rise and fall with his own breaths. John was laying on his back, arms over the blanket and relaxed. His mouth was open slightly and his quiet snores filled the room. Will felt like he might burst with the love he felt for this man. These last few days had been excruciating; they had been so busy, they’d hardly spent any time together. By the time Will got back to the lab each night, he barely had enough energy to eat and take another dose of painkillers before collapsing into bed. Speaking of painkillers… Will rose unsteadily to his feet and had to press his palm against the wall for a moment while his vision greyed. He closed his eyes until the dizziness passed and limped his way to the kitchenette area. John had been busy unpacking and arranging the laboratory equipment and making the entire place (temporarily) livable. Will smiled secretly as he swallowed his pills and grabbed a protein bar. Soon. He pulled on his clothes hastily, pausing occasionally to breathe through the spikes of pain. He couldn’t wait to get back to work. He couldn’t wait to see John’s face when he showed him what he’d been working on. He tiptoed into the airlock with one last glance in John’s direction, blowing a kiss over his shoulder.

*** * * * * * * * * ***

**_Sol 6_ **

_“John Watson here again. Um, hi.”_ John reached up and adjusted the camera, giving a little wave and sliding forward on his chair.

 _“Not sure who else it would be…”_ He trailed off with a little chuckle.

 _“Anyway. Today marks day, er, sol six on this here lovely red planet. We’ve gotten quite a bit more work done in the lab in the last twenty-four hours. It’s just about done in here.”_ John spun around in his chair with a vague arm wave meant to encompass all the new additions.

_“Well, I say we…”_

He trailed off again, glancing toward the airlock door where Will had disappeared several hours ago. It was nearly time for his next dosage of pain pills, so John knew to expect him back soon. They’d have lunch together, and then Will would wander off for hours again until evening. They’d eat together once more before Will would crawl into his cot, pale and exhausted. Within minutes, he’d be asleep, leaving John to stare at the walls of the building for hours, mind racing with all the work they had yet to do, while his body cried out for rest. Any time John had tried to casually ask him what he’d been getting up to during the day (trying to keep the irritation out of his voice, because he could _really use his help_ ), Will dodged the question, changing the subject or getting up abruptly to leave. John was finding it harder and harder to push away the nagging doubt, the voice that said _well what did you expect?_ Of course, they weren’t here just to play house. They were professionals, they were scientists, first and foremost. They’d had a little fling on the flight over, that was all. Tensions had been high, emotions had run rampant, but now Will probably just wanted to forget the entire thing and get to work. John swallowed and vowed to have a quick talk with Will tonight, maybe over dinner. He’d let him know that he felt the same; that he understood that what they’d had on the ship had been temporary, and that he was willing to work together professionally without making things weird between them. With his jaw set, John turned resolutely back to the camera. He cleared his throat and continued.

_“Today, I’m going to finally get started on the cabins.”_

 

* * * * * * * * * *

Will fidgeted in his chair, watching John out of the corner of his eye as he ate. Will’s appetite was gone; his insides too tangled up with nerves to feel anything close to hunger. He nibbled on some beef jerky, knowing he at least needed to put up a good front, so John wouldn’t notice anything was amiss. His foot jiggled under the table.

“Not hungry?” John’s eyes were searching his, concern clouding his blue eyes. Will offered a tiny smile.

“Not really.” He shrugged.

John frowned as he returned to his own meal. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but was holding back for some reason. Will pursed his lips, glancing surreptitiously at his watch. John had been unusually quiet since Will had returned, wordlessly handing him his medicine and asking very clinically about his various injuries. He’d listened to Will’s lungs to make sure they were still clear, but his touches hadn’t lingered like they usually did. He had checked his stitches too and Will couldn’t help but notice the absence of the forehead kiss he’d come to expect. He hoped John wasn’t having second thoughts about this, about them. He bit his lip. Nothing for it now. He’d show John what he’d done, and if he seemed hesitant, Will couldn’t really blame him. It wouldn’t be the first time he had read a situation wrong. Not wanting to prolong it anymore, he stood suddenly, using the table for leverage as he shifted onto his good foot. John glanced up, surprised.

“Will---what? Are you okay?”

Will nodded emphatically, reaching for John’s arm. “Yes, yes. Fine. I’m fine. I just-- I need. Can I show you something? It’s nothing much… it’s just.” He blew out an exasperated breath, ducking his head. He heard John chuckle and peeked up at him from beneath his hair.

“Yeah. Yeah of course. Can I--” He motioned to his remaining lunch, glancing up at Will’s face. He must have seen the desperation there, however, because he got quickly to his feet. “Right. Food can wait.”

Will reached for John’s hand and led him wordlessly to the airlock. John was dressed warmly enough - he was wearing a sweatshirt and track pants. They needn’t bother with their suits, as they would only be traveling a few yards, not enough time to worry about the radiation. He heard John’s questioning hum, but he didn’t answer, spinning the airlock and holding his breath as he waited for the pressure to equalize. The air that greeted them was cool, much cooler than Florida, but not nearly the sub-zero temperatures that Mars would experience later in the day. Will led him around the side of the laboratory building to where the cabin waited. John had inflated it their second day after arriving, but had announced later that day that he wanted to work on the lab first before starting in on their living quarters. During lunch today, he had briefly mentioned taking inventory of the payload containers later to see “what’s what.” That had been the push Will needed.

Will turned to look at John as they approached the door. John’s eyebrows were raised slightly.

“You’re going to help me with the uh, first of the cabins? Put it together?”

Will’s mouth quirked up at the corner as he pushed open the door. “Something like that.” He stepped through the threshold and moved aside to let John in fully.

“Oh my god.” John’s eyes were wide, mouth agape, head swiveling. Will stilled, hardly breathing. He glanced around to try and see this with a fresh pair of eyes. _Was it too much? Should he have asked John? Was this something couples were supposed to talk about first? Were they a couple?_ John was moving around the room now, touching things hesitantly with one finger. He paused at the large bed built into the wall, his eyebrows raised.

Will cleared his throat. “I may have uh...adjusted the dimensions of the original file slightly.”

Besides the bed, the light, airy room also included a fold-out desk with a pair of matching chairs made of lightweight resin, a double bureau built into the wall opposite the bed, and a large, brightly colored rug. Centered on the bookshelves was a miniature replica of _Percival._

 _Where it all began,_ Will thought to himself as he studied the tiny spaceship from where he was still awkwardly lingering by the door. John continued his lap around the room silently.

The only other item on the bookshelves were a pair of white bookends, designed and printed by Will. They were on the shelf below _Percival;_ a “J” and a “W”, looking lonely without any books between them. He eyed them now, wondering if they crossed the line into too sentimental. He had wanted to put something meaningful on the empty shelves, but had racked his brain, unable to come up with anything that would truly symbolize their _togetherness_ in a way that wasn’t cheesy.

To the right, a door opened into a tiny bathroom, complete with a shower. A spiral staircase made of translucent blocks rose up through the center of the room to a loft with a skylight that would eventually be filled with plants from the greenhouse. Will had rescued a few tender shoots from the eco pods to demonstrate its purpose and had even set up a music stand in the corner. He heard John’s sharp intake of breath from above him as he discovered the plants.

Will wanted to go to him, to ask him the thousand questions bouncing around his brain like caffeinated ping pong balls, but he was rooted to the spot. Putting together the cabin for John, for their future life together, had seemed like a logical choice a few days prior. John had been so good to him; had rescued him and cared for him. He knew this could never compare, but he couldn’t help wanting to give him a gift in return, a physical manifestation to show his gratitude and love. But perhaps he had been too hasty. John cleared his throat as he came back down the stairs.

“John?” Will hated how his voice sounded; apprehensive, vulnerable, weak. He coughed and winced when his ribs complained. John turned with a watery smile. “Oh my god, Will,” he repeated, his voice breaking. His eyes were red, brimming with tears, but he was smiling. A real smile, that stretched his cheeks and reached all the way to his eyes. Will blinked, trying to make sense of the conflicting data.

“Did I… did I get it wrong? Should I-- er, do you want to-- I can start on the other one…We don’t have to... ” He clasped his hands behind his back, rubbing his thumb against his forefinger. It was a nervous gesture, one he hadn’t used in awhile. John made a choking sound that could’ve been a sob, or a laugh.

“No, no! No, you got it just right. Come here!” He held out his arms and Will went to him, still a bit hesitant. John pulled him in and after a moment, Will relaxed into the embrace, resting his cheek on the top of John’s head. He could feel John shaking, a tremor at first, that increased until it erupted. Will pulled away puzzled, lips pressed into a line as he studied John’s face. John was _laughing._

“I- I’m sorry!” John swallowed down another giggle. “I thought--” He waved his hand, taking a deep breath to try and steady himself. “Oh, Will. I thought you were having second thoughts, but you’ve been doing _this_ all along.” He reached up and touched Will’s cheek with the back of his fingers, gently, hesitantly. “Thank you.”

Will blinked. “So… you… like it?”

John’s warm breath ghosted over his face. “I love it. It’s perfect. It’s _ours_.” He cupped Will’s face in his hands and drew him down, pressing their lips together. John’s mouth was warm and soft, and Will felt his knees buckle in relief. John chuckled and slid his arms around him once more, reaching one hand down to tug them even closer together. Their kisses deepened, tongues meeting and sliding together as they moved toward the bed.

 

* * * * * * * * * *  

John woke early, sliding out from under Will’s arm and onto the rug. He stretched, turning his head to work out the kinks. His breath caught as he took in the sleeping form of Will, his long limbs splayed out under the blanket, his face relaxed in sleep. John leaned over and brushed the curls from his forehead. They were long and unkempt, framing his face in softness. John ghosted a kiss over his cheek, trailing his nose across the soft skin towards his ear. Will hummed, a sleepy smile turning up the corners of his mouth, even though his eyes remained shut. “Stay,” he murmured. John stroked his forearm, planting a kiss on Will’s bare shoulder before tugging the blanket up to cover it. Will snuggled down into its warmth, his breathing already slowing once more. “Just need to pee. Be right back. I promise.”

John tiptoed to the bathroom nude, amazement still leaving him wide-eyed and nearly breathless. He couldn’t believe Will had done all of this for him, for _them._ It was a dream come true to have this space to call their own. Even once the next mission arrived, they would have this sanctuary to return to each night. They were staking their claim on this planet, one small step for love. He took care of his business in a hurry, relieving himself and brushing his teeth at the same time, anxious to get back.

The sight that greeted him made his mouth water. Will was still sprawled on the bed, but had shifted onto his back, arms stretched behind his head, completely naked. It had been fast and furious last night; all the shock and desperation, the pain and the distance of the last few days evaporating as they came together, collapsing onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. But now, John wanted to worship him, to show him every bit of his love and admiration with his hands, his mouth, his body. He could feel his own interest stirring as his gaze traveled over the work of art before him. Will watched him move towards the bed with heavily-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling, already a bit unsteadily.

Kneeling on the edge of the bed, John picked up Will’s uninjured foot, cradling his heel gently in the palm of his hand. He stroked his thumb up the sole of Will’s foot, just firmly enough to not tickle. Raising it to his mouth, he planted a kiss directly on his arch, one eyebrow raised as he glanced at Will. Will’s eyes widened, but he settled back against the pillows. John took that as a sign to continue, drifting his lips up the inside of his foot, pausing to swirl his tongue in the dip behind his ankle bone. Will’s pale skin was silky smooth here and John relished in the feel of it beneath his mouth. Will made a soft sound of pleasure as John trailed up the inside of both legs with his mouth and fingertips, light as feathers as they brushed over the downy hair. John peeked up at Will again as he stroked the pads of his thumbs over his knees. Will’s eyes had drifted shut and his mouth had fallen open, subdued notes of pleasure slipping out between his lips. The sound of them, together with the knowledge that he was the one prompting them, traveled directly to John’s groin, warmth pooling between his legs as he kissed languidly up Will’s long legs. What had felt hot and urgent yesterday, now felt warm and slow, enhancing John’s senses gradually until he was embalmed in the taste and aroma of Will.

His mouth opened and his tongue slid out to trace the spot where the hair turned coarse, the patch of wiry hair curling and tickling around his nose as he nudged his way lower. He inhaled the musky scent of this most intimate place, feeling drunk on pheromones. Will’s breathy sounds gradually turned more vocal, deep and sensual, their mutual arousal becoming evident. John shifted, dragging his fingernails from Will’s hips to knees. Will let his legs fall open, his pelvis twitching towards the heat of John’s mouth as he pressed open mouth kisses across Will’s belly. John could feel moisture leaking out from between his legs and onto the bed as he braced his arms around Will’s sides, careful not to transfer any weight to his injured chest. He leaned down, continuing his gentle exploration with his mouth as he trailed his lips from belly button to breastbone, breaking off to swirl his tongue around first one nipple, then the other, smiling as Will arched and moaned into the contact.

“Like that, love?” Will was breathing hard now, his exhales noisy, the sound erotic. John was fully hard and thought he could very possibly climax just from listening to Will’s arousal. John dipped his head to continue his affection, but Will surged onto his elbows, catching John’s mouth with his own. Their mouths melded together, their tongues tangling in a sensual dance. There was no urgency, just the crescendo of warmth and pleasure rising in waves as John let his hips settle against Will’s, slotting them perfectly together. He held his weight in his arms as they began to move, breath catching at the exquisite feeling of hot skin sliding with just the right amount of friction. With a sharp inhale, Will pulled away. John halted, searching his face, terrified that he’d hurt him. But Will’s eyes didn’t reflect pain- they were dark, his pupils nearly eclipsing the rainbow of colors usually visible.

“John,” he panted. “I want to feel you. All of you.” He hitched his knees up as he spoke, making his intention perfectly clear.

John groaned, licking his lips. “God, yes. Yes! Do we have — is there —” He tripped over his words, his arousal making coherency difficult. But Will — clever, wonderful Will! — read his thoughts and spared him any more time-wasting rambling.

“Drawer.” Will’s hand patted the edge of the bed, reaching for the built-in storage beneath them. His voice was deep and husky.  

John took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and pulled the drawer open, grasping the small bottle in his hand. John couldn’t even begin to imagine where it had come from, but he had much more interesting matters at hand as he flicked the cap open.  

He shifted down on the bed, spreading Will’s knees apart even further. Will grabbed a pillow and arranged it under his own back and hips, elevating them slightly. John coated his fingers with the lube and pressed his middle finger to Will’s entrance. At Will’s inhale, he glanced up, stroking his other hand down his thigh from knee to hip.

“Alright?” He studied Will’s face for any hesitancy, any indication that he was changing his mind. Will nodded, closing his eyes with a low, throaty moan.

“Yes. Yes! Please, John!”

John obeyed quickly, pressing in his finger, relishing in the feeling of Will’s tight heat. His penis twitched its approval and he let out a shuddery breath as he thought about what it would feel like to be buried all the way inside Will. He pulled his focus back with difficulty. He wasn’t going to last otherwise. After a few minutes of preparation, Will’s whimpers were becoming more desperate, fluid pooling onto his stomach. Sliding up the bed, John kissed Will and touched his cheek until his eyes opened. He held his gaze, lining himself up, holding steady as Will’s body relaxed to allow the intrusion. They kept their eyes locked onto one another until Will wiggled his hips, inviting more movement. John allowed himself to get lost in the base sensations then, rocking gently, keeping his weight consciously off of Will’s chest as he moved. His eyelids fluttered as the electricity sparked low in his gut.

Will let out a guttural moan and John leaned down to taste it, to roll the sound around in his mouth, to feel the height of carnal depravity on his tongue. Will’s legs came up to wrap around John’s back and the angle changed, the intensity increased. Will snaked his hand between them to grasp himself, shuddering as the first tremors rocketed through him. John snapped his hips faster, hitting the same spot over and over until Will went rigid beneath him, his back arched nearly off the bed, mouth open in silent exclamation, eyes squeezed shut. John could feel the moment the orgasm hit, Will’s body clenching down around him as hot liquid spilled between them in long spurts, coating their chests and stomachs.

John rode the wave as long as possible before it overtook him too, his legs jerking and slipping against the sheets as he poured into Will. Stars sparkled in his vision and he gasped for air. When Will’s arms wrapped around him, he lowered himself jerkily, sweating and still twitching as the intense pleasure ebbed. He tucked his head into the crook of Will’s neck. For a long while, they drifted together into a state of semi-consciousness, the air filled only with the sound of their wrecked breathing as their heartbeats synched.  

When Will winced from oversensitivity with an apologetic smile, John slid out and slumped onto the bed, off to the side, one hand trailing in the mess on Will’s stomach.  

“Wow.” It was whispered, reverent, an acknowledgment of something sacred that had passed between them. Will turned his head and nodded his agreement, his forehead creased in soft contemplation. John kissed the creases away, tangling his hand into wild curls and humming his contentment. Their breathing quieted, each lost in similar thoughts; two brains with a shared mind. When the air had cooled around them, and the unpleasant stickiness became too much to bear, John helped Will to the shower and stole away quickly to the lab to collect his medicine. It was a short walk and he spent it revisiting every moment of the past twenty-four hours, amazed beyond measure that this was his life now.

When he slipped back into the bathroom and joined Will under the hot spray of the shower, Will’s face split into the most dazzling smile John had ever seen. It made his knees weak, and he pressed against him, capturing those lovely lips for his own. Will chuckled at John’s exuberance and leaned them against the wall, nipping at John’s bottom lip as he wound his arms around him.

They stayed in the shower until the water cooled, Will’s face becoming more drawn and pale with each passing minute. John worried over him, concerned that he had overdone it, until Will leveled a look at him and smacked his arm lightly.

“Stop it. I’m fine! Just need to lie down for a bit. Probably eat something. Kiss a handsome astronaut.” He winked at John as he slid into a pair of soft, cotton trousers, tugging the drawstrings tight against his flat stomach. John helped arrange him comfortably on the bed, pausing frequently to kiss the most brilliant man on the planet, their breath mingling warm and sweet between them before he pulled away with a laugh.

“We’re going to starve to death if you don’t let me go soon!”

There wasn’t a kitchen in the small cabin, so John made his way back to the lab. Eventually, there would be a commons area, with a kitchen and a media room, even a gym. But for now, some protein bars would have to do. Once inside the lab, he spotted the camera and remembered his video from the day before. He flushed, embarrassed by how wrong he’d been about the entire situation. With a determined nod, he pushed away all the negative thoughts, imagining them evaporating into the air as he collected their breakfast; instant coffee, bottles of water, beef jerky and protein bars and headed back. As he walked, he considered his original plans for today. He had wanted to head back to _Percival_ and collect the rest of their belongings that they’d left there. It was a bit of a walk, probably too much for Will to handle, unless they could connect to one of the rovers. He ran the idea past Will as they ate their breakfast in bed, warm and lazy under the blanket. Will hummed in agreement, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against the bed.

An hour later, Will had hacked into one of the control panels and summoned the same rover that had delivered them from the FlexCraft. John shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t believe it had only been a week. Lifetimes had passed since he’d found Will dangling lifelessly from the straps of his seat, although he could still taste the fear in the back of his throat from the exact moment he’d realized that the fiery object streaking through the sky held the man he loved more than life itself.

Will touched his arm, startling him out of his spiral.

“Okay? I think I lost you there for a few minutes.” His tone was teasing but his eyes were serious, studying John carefully. John nodded, shifting his gaze to the horizon. The rover was trundling toward them over the uneven surface. John reached down and linked their fingers together as the gleaming metal cab stopped by the door. Hand-in-hand, they walked toward the vehicle where it idled, but stopped dead in their tracks, still several feet away, as the door opened and two pairs of boots slid out.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, let's talk logistics: 
> 
> Just in time for ~~my fic~~ , the next step in Mars habitation, a contest was launched this summer to challenge groups to design a Mars habitat that could be completely 3D printed. Depending on the design, the first crew to Mars will most likely use a combination of mined materials, parts brought over on their flight or on previous unmanned flights as payload, and 3D printed parts to build their permanent structures. In our universe, John has already mentioned the containers that were brought on previous trips (probably the ones he and Molly and Greg were on). Before the arrival of _Percival_ , robots would’ve been hard at work laying plumbing, setting up solar panels, and arranging foundations for the inflatable cabins. 
> 
> John and Will both mentioned inflating their cabin. Most likely, it would have also needed an extra protective layer, sprayed on by a robot, and made of a natural substance mined from the Martian soil.  
> Will, then, would’ve used a combination of materials from the cargo containers and 3D printing to furnish the inside of the cabin and make it functional and cozy. Check out the [ winners and runners up of the contest ](https://www.solidsmack.com/contests/nasa-announces-winners-of-their-3d-printed-mars-habitat-competition/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+solidsmack+%28SolidSmack.com%29) to see some really out of this world (grooooan-sorry!) designs. And check out [ this home ](https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-3924260/Your-future-house-Mars-Martian-home-reveals-life-like-red-planet.html) they actually built in Greenwich to promote the National Geographic pseudo-documentary **Mars**. 
> 
> Also....John is me when he says he has absolutely no idea where they would’ve gotten lube, but Will’s a genius. He probably scienced one out of some Martian dirt or something. *shrug* just squint if that part bothers you. It’s better than dry docking, I’d imagine. 
> 
> Edit: A lengthy argument (in my own head) and comments from @88thParallel led me to believe that this is official IMMC-issued personal lubricant. Yup. It *is* a very long (and unless you manage to seduce the Galaxy's Biggest Drama Queen, or have caught the eye of Captain Space Rod....also very lonely) trip. Surely the IMMC would want their astronauts to be uh...comfortable. *shifty eyes*.
> 
> VERY IMPORTANT EDIT: thanks to some research by 1butterfly_grl1, I can now confirm that there are 5 different lubrication types on the ISS. Surgical, nasal, and 3 kinds of eyeball lubes. Endless possibilities for our favorite martians. ;-) 
> 
> https://motherboard.vice.com/en_us/article/vv7bn8/an-exhaustive-inventory-of-the-international-space-stations-medicine-cabinet


	15. Infinity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. Just this chapter and a short epilogue to go. Thank you to everyone that has followed this journey to unchartered space with me and my beloved 'bois. Your enthusiasm kept this fun. Special thanks to my betas and cheerleaders, 88thParallel and ThornyPeach. <3 <3 You're the best.
> 
> This chapter's song is [ Infinity by Jaymes Young. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWqEPKduGm8&index=16&list=PLQgNMjnk84DpIwPMNHnUkZ_NhMkbqEtUf&t=0s)
> 
> The entire Hundred Crimson Sols playlist can be found [ here. ](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQgNMjnk84DpIwPMNHnUkZ_NhMkbqEtUf)

Sally took a long drink of her Americano, grimacing at the now-cool liquid. She’d clearly been standing here for awhile, lost in thought. She chucked the offending beverage in the trash, its bitter jolt doing nothing to lift the fog from her brain. 

It had been six days since the MDV had been hit  _ just right _ by the asteroid, severing its connection to the HAB, splitting the crew in half, and aborting all communication with the descent vehicle and its occupants. Communication with John Watson and Will Holmes had been maintained once they had restarted  _ Percival _ , up until Will had made the absolutely idiotic decision to leave  _ Percival  _ and try to land one of the FlexCraft vehicles. The control room had erupted in chaos, futilely trying to connect to his communication device and convince him to return to  _ Percival _ . It would have been risky, as they were running on just the oxygen available in the auxiliary tank, but trying to control, not to mention land, the FlexCraft was assumedly a suicide mission. 

The last contact they had had with Will or John had been as John landed  _ Percival  _ alone. The ship’s exterior cameras allowed them to see the smoking mass of tangled metal that had once been the FlexCraft and John’s anguished cries had echoed through the silent control room as he struggled to unclasp his harness. Once he was through the airlock _ ,  _ they had lost communication once again. The crew back on Earth could only hold their breath and watch as he sprinted to the mangled craft, stumbling over rocks and ripping open the hatch with the nearly-superhuman strength that comes from a rush of pure adrenaline. 

Without a word, Mycroft had turned and tapped on a nearby screen, still watching out of the corner of his eye for any movement from the FlexCraft. When the door opened a few minutes later and both John and a miraculously  _ living _ Will had stumbled towards the rover Myc had summoned, the room had burst into applause. Sally had hugged Myc, much to his obvious surprise, but his eyes were wet when she pulled away. Sally had pretended not to notice, swiping furiously as her own spilled over.

That was six days ago and the relief had turned once again to desperation as the ground control crew continued to search for any clue to the MDV’s whereabouts, to connect to the Mars base, and get the new crew and craft prepped for the next flight. With each passing hour, the ability to remain positive grew dimmer and dimmer. Sally could see the same held true for nearly every member of the crew, including -  _ especially _ \- Myc.  

Almost as if on cue, the door to the control room opened and Myc drifted in, startling her out of her thoughts. Sally knew his haggard expression could find a mirror image in her own features. He caught her eye and tilted his head towards the back of the room.  _ A private chat, _ she thought,  _ is never a good sign. _

As suspected, Myc’s voice dropped as soon as they reached the rear wall, though they were still well within earshot of anyone in the back row of desks that cared to listen in. A memory of teachers in elementary school who would hide their faces behind a piece of paper in order to have a bit of privacy arose from somewhere, and Sally nearly giggled. Christ, she needed to pull herself together. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept a stretch longer than three hours, and had really only gone home a handful of times in the past week to shower and change her clothes. How could she do anything else when it was  _ her _ mission that had endangered the lives of four people? How could she do anything else when two of those four were lost, and the other two stranded on a foreign planet, possibly hurt and probably terrified?

The simple, terrible fact was that she had let down people that she cared about, people she was meant to keep safe. People that had homes of their own, and families to return to. The very families that would be delivered the dreaded news that “they did everything they could  _ but…” _

Suddenly, Sally knew why Myc was here.

“The press conference has been scheduled for tomorrow.” He said softly, eyes cast on the grey concrete floor beneath their feet. Every part of Sally rebelled. She wanted to scream, kick chairs, throw staplers across the room, because it just wasn’t  _ fair. _ How could she possibly address a room full of reporters, to say nothing of the parents and sisters and pregnant wife and  _ children _ of her crew? How could she possibly look them in the eyes and know that she had failed in bringing their beloved safely home?

Tomorrow marked a week since the explosion in the MDV. Teams had been working tirelessly on a complicated system of satellite triangulation to try and find a signal from the lost spacecraft, any sign that the lives of Molly Hooper and Greg Lestrade had not been lost. Tomorrow, they would give up. Tomorrow they would admit defeat and turn their efforts to ensuring the same did not happen for the next crew. Tomorrow, they would begin to move forward.

Myc lifted his gaze and understanding flowed between them; the raw, aching solidarity of two people who have experienced something horrific together and are forever connected because of it.

“I’m not giving up yet.” The strength of her voice surprised even her as it filled the air without so much as a quiver. “We’ll find them.”

Mycroft studied her expression and Sally knew exactly what he could see - the dark circles under her eyes and frizzy hair contrasted against a set jaw and straight spine. Determined. Hopeful. If there was a way to will the astronauts back to safety, she and Myc should be able to do it. He nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I hope so.”

Sally turned to leave, but something on one of the screens nearby caught her eye. The young man seated at the desk seemed to sense her hovering and glanced up at her inquisitively.

“Myc…” She began slowly. “Did you send the rover to the base again?”

Mycroft turned to squint at the screen with Sally, bracing himself on his palms, shaking his head slowly. Andrew tapped the screen a few times.

“Looks like it was called from their end. From -- oh!”

He looked up at them, the hint of a smile tugging at his smooth cheeks. Sally wondered if he was even out of high school yet. She raised her eyebrows, shifting to see the screen.

“Hooper’s tablet!”  

 

* * * * * * * * * *

Will rubbed his eyes, his forehead throbbing, his whole body aching. They had spent the day in the rover, visiting the MDV and  _ Percival _ , slowly filling the vehicle with their recovered belongings, as well as the food, water, and plants that Greg and Molly had rescued from the HAB. The rover was stuffed, and the crew exhausted and sore as they made their way back to base. He tried not to be obvious, but John noticed anyway.

“Ohhh...sorry, love.” He murmured, rummaging around in the pockets of his suit with one hand, giving Will’s knee a squeeze with the other. He produced the little bottle of pills and uncapped a bottle of water. Will tossed them back with a grateful smile, turning his attention back to Molly. Molly and Greg had promised they would tell them everything about what happened after the explosion and he found that he was strangely anxious to hear.

Will had been startled to find his own eyes filling with grateful tears yesterday as Molly had stumbled out of the rover, nearly dragging Greg with her. John had surged forward and caught the both of them, slinging Greg’s arm over his shoulder with hardly a moment’s hesitation. If he was surprised to see them, he never let on. Blinking rapidly through the shock, Will had situated himself on the other side of Molly, wrapping his arm around her waist and giving her a little squeeze.

Once inside, John had slipped easily into the persona of Doctor Watson as he’d tended to their surprisingly minor injuries. Will had hovered nearby, playing nurse as he fetched items from where John had stored them earlier in the week. He shook his head in disbelief that somehow, because of some alignment of the stars, this incredible man had become his. Once they’d gotten Molly and Greg settled on the cots, IVs administered into both for dehydration and a dose of painkillers, John and Will tiptoed out with John’s whispered promise to come check on them in a few hours. Molly gave them a sleepy smile and a thumbs up, already succumbing to the warmth and comfort of the bed beneath her.

The hydration and hours of sleep in a real bed had done wonders for them both, and Will and John had been woken up by a sharp knock on the cabin door bright and early that morning. Plans had been made over breakfast to take a trip to the abandoned ships to collect the necessary supplies and begin to make this planet home. Neither Greg nor Molly said anything about their shared cabin, which made Will chuckle to himself as he thought back to their in-flight tryst. Apparently, they hadn’t been as sneaky as they’d thought.

They had finally been in contact with ground control yesterday, shortly after Molly and Greg’s arrival. Myc and Sally and the rest of the crew had told them with shiny eyes that they were desperately glad to hear from them, and were working as quickly as possible to get the next flight off the ground. Half of the new crew would be staying to work, while the other half took the  _ Percival _ crew back home.

John’s hand found his and gave a little squeeze. Feeling hopeful and more relaxed than he’d been since leaving Earth, Will settled back against the seat of the rover to listen to Molly and Greg recount their tale of survival.

* * * * * * * * * *

John finished his video log for the day, tapping the screen to shut it down. He wasn’t sure how long he’d keep doing them, but it was a nice way to unwind each night. Often, he found himself smiling as he reviewed their days; always busy with the million things that needed to be done, but also filled with tiny moments of sweetness and domesticity as he and Will flirted and giggled together. Those moments never made it to the log, but he kept them tucked away safe in his memories.

He stretched his arms above his head, smiling as the first tuning notes of Will’s violin floated down the stairs. Will had snuck into the cabin during the vlog, tiptoeing up the acrylic block steps, carefully out of the line of sight of the camera. They hadn’t officially announced their relationship to anyone back home yet, unsure how it would be received. John vowed to bring it up to Will soon. The last thing he wanted was for Will to get the idea that he was somehow ashamed of what they had become. In truth, he was bursting with pride and anxious to let the whole world know that Will Holmes was his.

Leaning back in his chair, John let his eyes drift around the room, landing as they always did on the bookshelves next to the desk. As Will’s music shifted to something more melodic, John’s gaze slid over the items on the shelf one at a time, caressing them; the acrylic J and W bookends that Will had made, the tiny replica of  _ Percival _ , both of their tablets, stacked neatly together. His eyes settled finally on the pink frame, standing out brightly among the other items on the shelf. He blinked, the tightness in his chest feeling lighter than it had in years, now that he’d allowed himself to grieve properly.

After a lifetime of denial, of being a “tough guy”, of stiffening that upper lip, it still felt foreign to embrace his emotions. Slowly, gently, Will had been helping him peel back the layers of emotional scabs that he’d accrued. John’s knee jerk reaction was still to push him away, to focus on caring for Will’s needs and letting his own pain fester. But Will had proven to be tenacious. The night they had returned from their rover trip, dusty and exhausted and emotionally battered, Will had unpacked their collected belongings while John had slipped into the shower. Later, when they were both tucked into bed, Will had pressed the familiarly smooth oval into his hand and whispered,  _ Someday, whenever you’re ready, I’d love to hear all about her. _

The music floating from above changed then, swirling through the air, sinking into John. He felt it in his very soul, pooling in the cracks of his broken places, knitting together the fraying strands of his life. He was a broken man, they both were, but slowly, steadily, they could begin their healing. Together.

Ascending the stairs, John drank in the sight of Will; barefoot with limbs like liquid quicksilver, shifting and reshaping in front of his eyes. Will’s eyes were open this time, watching John, assessing, pleading-- no,  _ asking.  _ Asking to be granted permission to John’s inner turmoil, to be allowed in, given access. Asking to be felt, to be seen, to be understood.

_ John wanted. _

He wanted to give Will the key to unlock all his inner demons and in turn to help vanquish Will’s; he wanted to meet the dragon that reared its ugly head and caused that shadow to darken Will’s features, however briefly, the ghoul whispering in his ear that he wasn’t enough, somehow. John’s temper flared at the unseen who had hurt him, caused him pain, made him feel  _ less than _ . He wanted to share his every detail of his past with Will, and  _ oh how he wanted _ to share every moment of their future together.

Will’s melody swelled and quieted, lingering sweetly in the air. His arm dropped but his gaze remained steadily on John. John went to him, slid his arms around his waist and kissed him, those plush lips opening into a ring of surprise briefly before pressing back with enthusiasm.

After a moment, John withdrew, sliding his palms down to wrap lightly around Will’s wrists. He tapped a finger against the neck of the violin.

“That was beautiful. What was it?”

Will shrugged, the tips of his ears betraying his nonchalance with their rosy glow. But instead of answering, Will shifted to place the violin gently back on the shelf. He gave it an affectionate pat, and then spoke in a low, rumbling voice. 

“I play the violin when I’m thinking and I sometimes don’t talk for days on end.” 

Will turned. There was a brave smile on his face, but his eyes were deep pools of vulnerability. “Partners should know the worst about each other, right?” 

John blinked, reaching for Will’s hand. He squeezed gently, trying to pour every ounce of protection and love that threatened to devour him otherwise. 

“It would be my privilege to know the very best and worst things about you. I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. For infinity.”  

Will looked at him for a long time before finally sucking in a breath and speaking. 

“What do you think about...” He trailed off, looking down as he entwined their fingers together. John waited patiently. He could feel Will’s fingers trembling.  

“William Sherlock Scott… Watson? I think it could work…” Will’s smile was tentative, impish, as he peeked up through his lashes at John. 

John thought his heart would burst from his chest. He swallowed hard and pulled Will against him, murmuring against his cheek. His voice caught in his throat.  

“Yes I think it could work very well. Very well indeed.” 


	16. Epilogue

“Mmm, smells good, Love.” John snaked one arm around Will to steal a cherry tomato, popping it into his mouth with a lascivious wink. Will swatted at him playfully. 

“Hey! Hands off!” 

“Never.” John growled in his ear, smokey and seductive, tugging Will to him for a kiss. It was sweet and chaste, but held the delicious promise of  _ later _ . 

“Heyyy, get a room!” Someone called out from behind them. 

Will stepped away from the kitchen worktop, making a show of setting down his knife and wiping his hands on a towel.

“If you insist…” He turned toward the door, pulling a laughing John by the hand. 

Molly threw her hands up in defeat. 

“No! No, please don’t leave! We’re starving! Kiss all you want, as long as you finish cooking!” 

Her eyes sparkled. She loved teasing Will and was as thrilled as the rest of them to be let in on the secret of his playful side.

Will was happy and in love. 

It was easy to see why; he and John fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, cut from the same mold, and meant to find one another always. 

There was a festive mood in the air tonight, though it was tinged with a hint of sadness. The new crew had arrived yesterday, after a thankfully uneventful flight, and were busy getting settled into their new cabins. The main building had been thoroughly cleaned and they were having a special dinner, complete with fresh produce from the garden and even a nice whiskey the new crew had brought with them. Tomorrow, Molly and Greg would help pack up the new ship,  _ Elpis, _ and head back to Earth with half of its crew. But tonight, they were celebrating. 

The ceremony had been simple and private, conducted in the greenhouse just before the new crew had arrived. At Will’s insistence, Greg had officiated while Molly looked on, smiling. John had surprised Will with rings he had made with iron mined from the crater where they had landed. The bands had slid smoothly onto both of their fingers and not a single eye was dry by the time the kiss had finished. 

Hand in hand, they had walked back to their cabin to start their new life together, officially. 

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hey! Come on! We’re never going to finish this if you don’t knock that- mmmph!” John’s protests were silenced quickly by Will’s mouth on his. They had been trying for over an hour to record their responses to the most recent in a long line of interviews. Once word had made it back to Earth that the first people on Mars had been two men who’d fallen in love on the flight over, and nearly died trying to save one another… the media had pounced all over their story and requests for interviews had started arriving in their email. Myc and Sally had shared with them some of the headlines splashed across every major online news source, and they had made it a habit of reading them together before bed, laughing together at the creativity of some: 

 

**_Love at First Flight_ **

**_One Small Step for Mankind, One Giant Leap for the LGBTQ+ Community_ **

**_The Cohabitating Cosmonauts_ **

**_Planet of the Gays_ **

 

And John’s personal favorite:  **_Love is Love, No Matter How Alien._ **

The irony was not lost on him that a young boy from the rural Midwest, raised in a staunchly Conservative family, had become a gay icon and a common household name. He wondered what his father thought of him, and promptly decided that he just didn’t care. He was happy and madly in love and there wasn’t a soul on Earth  _ or _ Mars that could take that from him now.

Will had maneuvered himself onto his lap and was expertly pulling John back to the present with his clever mouth and musician hands.

_ The rest of the video could wait,  _ John thought to himself as he pulled them both to their feet and wrapped his arms around his husband, kissing him fiercely.  

 

* * * * * * * * * *

An hour later, they were snuggled in bed, Will fitted perfectly behind John, left hands woven together and tucked under John’s chin. Will could feel the smooth weight of their rings pressed together, grounding him. They had finally finished the video, sitting next to each other in their matching chairs, holding hands and finishing each other’s sentences.

_ Disgusting _ , Will thought, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“Will?” John’s voice was soft in the dark room. Through the window opposite their bed, the sky was bright with stars; entire galaxies, it seemed. They were beautiful, but they didn’t hold a candle to the beauty that lay in his arms. 

Will hummed sleepily, already drifting.

“What is it, Love?” He asked, trying out John’s favorite term of endearment. He found that he liked it. John  _ was _ loved and cherished, and Will couldn’t wait to spend the rest of their life showing him exactly how much. He kissed the back of John’s neck, where the hair was short and downy-soft and he felt John melt beneath him. 

“Do you think you’ll ever want to go back? Do you think you’ll miss it?” 

Will frowned and tugged on John’s hip until he turned around to face him. He studied John’s face in the dim light of the room. Though he often struggled to understand others’ emotional nuances, he found that with John it was becoming easier. John’s eyes were wide, searching Will’s too, undoubtedly, for any sign that he was feeling regret. 

“John.” He whispered urgently, not wanting to break the twilight magic, but needing to be believed. 

“There is nothing,  _ nothing _ left for me on Earth. Everything I have ever wanted is here with me on Mars, hell -- on this  _ bed _ . This, you, us. This is everything I wanted and never knew that I needed.”

John was quiet for a moment, and Will could feel their breathing sync, their chests moving against the other, perfectly matched. John smiled and drew him in, kissing him softly. His arms wrapped around his back, strong and safe. 

“I love you, Will.” 

“I know. And I love you too.” 

Will squeezed John’s shoulder, getting lost for a moment in the deep blue of his eyes. At such close proximity, John’s eyes were dark; ocean depths and polished sapphire. Will drank them in, let their serenity wash over him, the blue of deep breaths and galactic skies, of acceptance and loyalty and calm. 

He ached wholly for what was yet to come; simultaneously anticipating and fearing the inevitable hurdles of their life together. John’s feather- light touch on his back, fingers skimming along the notches of his vertebrae, was comforting, gentle, warm. HIs presence steadied him, the way only John knew how to do. 

He was home. He belonged. With eyes closed, and heart open, he sank peacefully to sleep, wrapped in the arms of his beloved. 

“For infinity.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _Here dwell together two men of note,_  
>  _Happily living on their planet remote_  
>  _Here, they no longer have to hide_  
>  _Because it is two thousand thirty-five._  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> I have collected relevant things (links, photos, etc) in a central location :) [ Spacebois Bonus Material ](https://elldotsee.tumblr.com/spacebois). Have a look!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Cover] A Hundred Crimson Sols](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14669648) by [allsovacant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant)
  * [among the stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15426096) by [allsovacant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant)




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